


eye of the needle

by ymorton



Series: mpr*g [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Kidfic, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mpr*g part two aka oops they did it again. takes place in 2022</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i never thought i'd write a sequel to [elastic heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3336251/chapters/7295930) because it's long enough already BUT. here we are. this fic will make tons of more sense if you read it in order of the series! 
> 
> please note! this fic has alternating pov and big ol' gaps in time and it can be a little unclear. the medical stuff is fuzzy and i don't explain how cis dudes can have babies. i have to be honest, i had no interest in writing a sequel as detailed and structured as the first fic was. it's more just... scenes??? i hope you enjoy anyway! 
> 
> title is from the sia song of the same name
> 
> come say hi [here](http://ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com/)  
> assorted fic bits/extras are in [this tag](http://ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com/tagged/preg)

"And what'd you do after you got sandwiches?" Harry asks, very patiently, as Sophie trails off from her fascinating story about ham and cheese toasties.

Sophie hums thoughtfully, and Nick adjusts the laptop so Harry can see her better. Harry gives him a quick smile.

"We walked to the park with Piggy," she says. "And in the park I saw a spider and daddy got scared. And I picked it up in my hand and daddy nearly cried."

"I did not- nearly _cry_ , Soph."

"He screamed like baby Alex," Sophie giggles.

"Your dad's a bit of a wimp sometimes, Soph," Harry says, huffing out a laugh. "Aren't you, Grim?"

"Not participating in this abuse."

Sophie digs her head into Nick's side like a little animal, and Nick pets her tangled hair - it'll need a comb through it soon - and leans down to kiss her forehead.

"I miss you," Harry says, looking unsurprisingly misty-eyed. Christ, and Nick hasn't even told him yet. "I miss both of you."

"Miss you too, daddy," Sophie mumbles. "When're you coming home?"

"Next week. Tuesday. Nick, you're picking me up, right?"

"Flight comes in at five, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes. I'll be there. Maybe we'll both be there, huh? You want to see daddy at the airport?"

They don't usually, cos of paps, but Harry's been gone for nearly three weeks now and Sophie's missed him terribly. She's old enough now to properly care that her dad is gone.

"Yes!" Sophie chirps, throwing her arm around Nick's waist. "I wanna come and get daddy at the airplane."

Harry laughs, and Nick looks up at him. "We'll both be there, then."

"Good." Harry smiles at him. He looks tired. It's been long days and nights in studio, trying to get three months of work done in three weeks. "Can't wait to see you."

"You either, Haz." Nick tugs Sophie onto his lap, gives her a kiss and sets her down. "Sophs, can you go watch telly for a tiny bit? I need to talk to daddy."

"But I want-"

"Soph, please."

Sophie pouts, but she turns to go, and Nick hears her footsteps pounding down the hall to the living room.

"See you soon, my love!" Harry calls, and then he yawns hugely, scrubs a hand through his hair. "Christ, I'm so-"

"Knackered. You look it. Poor rockstar."

"It's fine, it's - it's good, y'know. Just want to get home."

Nick nods. His stomach's quivering nervously.

"I should probably get in the shower," Harry says, yawning again. He cracks a grin. "It's been a while."

"Eurgh," Nick says automatically, nose wrinkling. "Glamorous. Yeah, you probably - can I, um - can I tell you something first, though."

Harry looks up. "Yeah?"

Ohh, god. Alright. Nick swallows very hard.

"I- I know this is, um. God. I wish I didn't have to tell you over Skype, but I can't- I can't wait til you're, um. I just can't wait. Shit." Nick puts his hands over his face.  

"Nick." Harry sounds utterly terrified. "What is it?"

Nick uncovers his face, looks right into Harry's wide green eyes, miles and miles away, all the way across the ocean.

"I'm pregnant," he says. "Uhh. Again."  

Harry stays perfectly still for a moment, and then his mouth curves up, slowly and sweetly, his eyes starting to crinkle.

"Are you joking," he says breathlessly.

"Nope. No. Actually knocked-up. Took the - the test today." Nick's voice is shaking. "Been puking all week. I'm thinking it was that time in Berlin with those weird German all-natural condoms, I didn't trust those-"

"Oh my god," Harry chokes out. "Oh my god. Oh my god, thank God, thank God-" His head drops, and Nick stares at him warily.

"Is that, are those good thank-Gods, or-"

Harry lifts his face again, and he's crying. Nick's chest clenches hard.

"I'm so happy, fuck," Harry gasps, wiping his eyes with his fingers. "Shit, I'm sorry, I know I'm crying again. It's good tears. M'so fucking happy. I'm so _tired_ , Nick, I'm delirious, I'm - so. So we're - oh my god. I mean, you- you're happy?"

Complicated question. Nick's - getting there.

"Yeah," he says, because Harry deserves that from him. "I'm - I'm fully scared. I'm like really scared cos I didn't think it'd happen and it's - it's scary. But I mean-"

Harry blinks at him, watery-eyed, looking weak and in awe. Nick did miss that kind of look, a bit. The way Harry watched him before Sophie was born.

"I'm happy," Nick says, coughing to clear the lump in his throat. “Course I’m happy.”

"Sophie's gonna have a little - a little sister or brother," Harry says, voice shaking, and then he sobs again, into the crook of his elbow. "Oh my god."

"Christ, you're so leaky. Pull it together."

"I know." Harry sniffs in hard. "Soz. I'm just, like. Have you told anyone?"

"Umm, Daisy," Nick says. "And Aimee and Ian and Henry."

"Jesus, was I last on the list?" Harry says, huffing out a laugh.

"Sooorry." Nick makes an apologetic face. "I love you?"

"Love you too," Harry says, sniffling again. "Fuck. Nick, we're gonna have a baby."

Nick chokes out a laugh. "I know."

"It's _mental_ ," Harry whispers.

"Done alright with the first one, I think."

"Only alright." Harry grins at him.

"After this one, I'm done, alright? Actually and completely done. Business is closed."

"You know, there's this telly program in America about a family with twenty children-"

"Shut it."

They laugh at each other for a moment. Harry's eyes are red and tired, and Nick's sure he doesn't look much better himself.

"God, I love you," Harry says, voice low.

Nick can feel his face heat up. Embarrassing. That's his actual husband, he shouldn't still be blushing over declarations of love.

"Are you freaked out?" Harry asks softly.

Nick chews his lip. "Does it make me a bad person to say yes?"

"No." Harry huffs out a breath. "You're not a bad person."

"It's just so, like. Much. I keep thinking about- about all the stuff that needs to - and then _labor_ , Haz, like. It was so awful the first time."

"I know."

"I don't want that to happen again," Nick says, voice thick. Oh shit. He is not bloody crying on Skype. "I don't want to- to lose all that blood and everything. It really fucking hurt."

"I know, love."

"I'm scared." Nick's throat is burning.

"God, I know. I know. It's alright."

Nick fumbles for a tissue and scrubs at his eyes.

"Sorry," he mutters. "I was fucking insufferable for a while, with Sophie. You didn't even see the worst of it. Can't believe I've still got all my friends, honestly."

Harry hums quietly. "Nick."

Nick peers up at him.

"There's nothing you could do that's gonna make me leave you or not love you," Harry says, slowly, deliberately. "Alright? Let's just get that out of the way."

Nick swallows.

"Remember what I said?" Harry asks, smiling, eyes watery. "If it happened again, I'd be there for every minute. I promise you."

"Why the fuck're you in LA, then," Nick says, lightly.

Harry's face falls just slightly.

"I'll come home," he says. "Right now. Sod the album."

"Oh god, Haz, you don't have to, I was only joking. Trust me, all I'm doing is puking right now. It's not pretty."

"I'm coming home. At least so you don't have to be watching Soph all the time. Have some time to puke in peace, or whatever."

"Harry-"

"Grim."

Nick gusts out a sigh.

"We can talk more when I'm back," Harry says quietly. "You haven't told Soph, have you?"

Nick laughs. "No. Might need your help on that."

"Yeah, wait for me. Please." Harry starts smiling again, dazed and helpless. "God, I can't wait to tell her. Tell everyone."

"That we're really bloody careless?"

"That we're _happy_ ," Harry says, mouth tugging up at the corner. "And yeah, a bit careless."

"Those fucking German condoms."

"Grim, it could've been my birthday, weren't we out of condoms and you said-"

"Okay, that wasn't my-"

"You said not to worry!"

"I told you to pull out before you-"

"You did not tell me to pull out. I would've bloody pulled out."

Nick chokes out a laugh, and startles when the bedroom door creaks open again. It's Sophie, standing there in a pair of pants and naught else, scratching her belly. Nick looks at her confusedly.

"Where've your clothes gone, darling?"

"Was hot."

"You were- oh my god. Haz, I've got to run, Sophie's decided to moonlight as a stripper."

"Whassa stripper?"

"Nothing, Soph," Nick says, snorting. He turns the computer so Harry can see Sophie in the doorway. "Say goodbye to your daddy, darling."

Sophie runs up to the computer and kisses the camera. "Bye daddy!"

"Bye, love," Harry says, voice muffled by Sophie's cheek pressed to the speaker. "Love you."

"Love you," Sophie sighs.  

"See you soon, Haz. Text me when you get a flight."

"I will," Harry repeats. "I'll do it now. See you soon."

Nick shuts the computer.

Sophie crawls promptly into his lap. "Dad?"

"Yes, love," Nick says, standing up and hoisting her on his hip. She puts her arms around his neck. God, where'd she put her clothes? If Pig's got to them Nick's going to have a fit. She was wearing bloody Burberry today.

"Can we have spaghetti for tea?"

Nick thinks about it, nudging the door open with his free hand. "Hmmmm."

Sophie pouts in his face. "Please, daddy."

"Do we have spaghetti?"

"Yes," Sophie says confidently. "We have lots."

Nick laughs, and sighs relievedly as he finds her dress crumpled up in the corner of the sofa. He sets her down and picks up the dress, shakes out the wrinkles.

"I'll look and see, love. Now put this back on, please."

Sophie whines as Nick wrestles it over her head, but once it's on she just tugs at it for a minute and then takes off towards the kitchen.

"Careful, please!" Nick calls. "Don't slip!"

They don't have spaghetti, but they do have penne, which is Sophie's second favorite. Nick sits them down at the table, almost immediately wishes he'd let Sophie keep her clothes off, as she drops a glob of tomato sauce down the front of her dress. Just as messy as her dad.

"Sophhhh," Nick laughs, leaning behind her to scrub at the stain with a wet towel.

"Oops," Sophie says, sighing heavily. "I spilled again."

"You silly girl." Nick kisses the side of her head. "Tuck this napkin in your dress, alright? That'll keep you nice and clean."

"Kay."

Nick tosses the towel in the sink, looks over to where Sophie's happily stuffing her face with penne, unbothered by her dress mishap. Was easier before, wasn't it, when all she wanted was milk. Nick didn't have to cook, or do dishes, or get tomato out of designer clothing. Just took his shirt off and let her at it.

Good _Christ_ , Nick's doing that again. All of it. He'll have another one just like that. Nick clutches the counter with one hand as his knees nearly go.

"Sophie," he says, voice wobbly. Sophie looks up, chewing, cheeks bulged out like a squirrel.

"Wha?"

"I love you," Nick says. "Just so you know. I love you very very much and you're my favorite person in the entire world."

Sophie keeps chewing. "Kay, daddy."

Nick chokes a laugh, and turns to the stove so she won't see him cry. She's too little yet to get when it's happy crying and not sad.

\---

True to his word, Nick's at the airport with Sophie, who bursts out of the backseat of the cab and runs towards Harry as he drags himself and his bags outside into the damp London spring.

"Daddy!" she yells, and Harry grins when he sees Nick sliding out of the backseat to chase her, laughing.

"Hii, hi, hi," Harry says, muffling it in Sophie's neck as he swings her off her feet. "Oh, I missed you. I missed you, hello, my love."

"There he is," Nick says, sliding one of Harry's bags off his shoulder. "Welcome home, rockstar."

Harry leans in to kiss Nick's smiling mouth, and it only hits him once they've pulled apart, Nick already turning back to the car. He stares at Nick's familiar back, breathing gone ragged and difficult for a minute, like someone's knocked the wind out of him. Nick's pregnant. A baby, another- another baby, inside him.

Somehow it didn't feel real til right now. Harry notices someone taking his photo - or, wait, three people - and he shakes himself, hurries to the car.

Sophie chatters the whole way home, telling Harry all about preschool, sat in her carseat with her legs kicking. Harry grabs one of her warm sturdy ankles, squeezes, and on the seat next to him, Nick takes his hand.

Harry looks over at him, bemused. Nick's smiling faintly out the window, but his fingers are lacing through Harry's, slim and warm.

"Daddy," Sophie says impatiently. "Daddy! I _said_ I saw a bluebird outside school and then Miss Emily said I could draw a picture of it so I drew a picture of it and daddy put it on the refrigerator."

"That's great," Harry says, huffing a laugh. "I can't wait to see it."

"Isn't it good, daddy?"

"Oh, it's brilliant." Nick squeezes Harry's hand, tips his head to the side and smiles at him. "You've got a natural talent, Sophs."

Sophie preens. "Daddy, when I get home I want to draw a picture of the airplane that daddy was on."

Nick laughs again, and Harry laughs back. Up close Nick looks tired but happy, satisfied exhaustion settled in every line on his familiar face. Harry missed him awfully. He grips Nick's hand again, hard.

"Daaaddy! I want to draw a picture of the airplane!"

"That's a great idea, my darling," Nick says dutifully, not taking his eyes off Harry's, dark and amused. "We'll get out the coloring stuff when we're home."

"Genius, love," Harry adds, and Nick snorts, leans forward to kiss him.

They have a mini-snog right there in the backseat, quiet and soft, while Sophie stares out the window and comments loudly on everything they pass. Perks of being a dad, innit, that Harry's learned to tune her out. Or- not tune her out, that sounds horrible. Harry _always_ listens to his daughter, of course, and he's never _ever_ dozed off during one of her exhaustive monologues on what she had for snack at preschool. Dad of the year, he is.

Still, he kisses Nick all the way home.

\---

Harry comes awake slowly, grinning when he realizes where he is. Home, in bed. Thank God.

Nick's on his side with his back to Harry, tangled up in white sheets. Harry watches him sleepily for a while, eventually reaches out to touch the tiny tattoo on the back of his shoulder. _6.2.18._ Sophie's birthday. Harry has the same one, in the same place.

Harry drags his finger below the tattoo, thumbs gently over where the next one will go.

"Mm," Nick mumbles, shifting slowly onto his back, and Harry slides a hand over his belly as he turns. "Morning."

"Morning." Harry palms over Nick's nipple, stiff and pink, and Nick sucks in a breath.

"Cheeky," he whispers, half-indignant, as he catches Harry's mouth in a kiss.

Harry pulls away, kissing Nick's shoulder, then his neck. He rests there for a moment, just breathing, keeping his hand spread flat on Nick's stomach. 

"You're pregnant," he says, against Nick's warm skin.

Nick huffs a laugh Harry can feel. "Yep."

"We're having another baby." Harry hasn't said it out loud yet. The words come out shaky.

Nick sighs slowly, hand sliding up Harry's back into his hair. "Seems so, Haz."

"God, this is- mental." Harry grins, shakes his head. "Mental."

"I know." Nick sighs again. "I'd say I can't believe it only I've been puking all week so it all feels very, very real."

"D'you- d'you have to now?" Harry says, pulling back. "How're you feeling?"

"Already did," Nick says wryly. "You didn't hear me sicking my guts up at like, half six?"

"Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so bloody jetlagged." 

"Oh, it's alright." Nick yawns wide. "Part of the gig, right. And I brushed my teeth _and_ used mouthwash, so can you say good morning properly or what?"

He tilts his chin up hopefully, and Harry breathes out a laugh and kisses him.

\---

"Sophs," Harry says, bouncing her up and down in his lap. She's busily studying a book, tracing her fingers over the pictures. "Babe, can we- Grim, will you grab the-"

Nick takes the book out of her hands, and Sophie looks up, brow wrinkling.

"I wanna read my book!"

"I know, love. I know. Just. We want to tell you something."

Sophie crawls off Harry's lap to fetch her book, and Nick tosses it behind the armchair. She stares at him, betrayed.

"Daddy!"

"Sophie, listen to your dad," Nick says, very obviously trying not to laugh. "God forbid we discourage literacy, seriously, what kind of parents are we- but we've got some news, alright?"

Sophie sighs. "What?"

"Sophie." Harry sniffs in hard, has to reach up to wipe his nose, and Nick kicks his ankle.

"Focus, Styles."

"Sorry. I just. Sophs, listen."

Sophie tips her head back in his arms to look up at him, and Harry nearly gets choked up again, seeing her face.

"Baby," he says, softly. "You're going to be a big sister."

"What?" Sophie's eyes go wide. "What?"

"You're gonna be a big sister," Harry says thickly. "You're going to have a little sister or brother."

"Do you know what that means, Soph?" Nick says, leaning forward. "Darling? You know what that means?"

Sophie is very still.

"You've- you've got a baby inside you," she says, voice small.

Nick nods, eyes dark. "Yeah, I do."

"You've really got a baby- a baby inside?" Sophie asks, clutching at Harry's arm. "Is it really in there?"

"It's really properly in there, love," Nick says, sounding a bit hoarse himself. He coughs. "Are you happy, Soph?"

"It's really in there?" Sophie repeats, her little voice shaking. Harry's not sure if she's about to start crying or laughing.

"It's really in there, Sophie." Nick looks up to catch Harry's eye, and Harry smiles, watery. "I promise, love. It's in my tummy."

Sophie sobs, and Harry jolts into action, spurred on by the sound of her tears as always. "Oh, baby, babe, it's not-

"Nooo, I want daddy," she cries, shoving Harry's hands off and sliding off him, crawling onto Nick's lap. "Daddy, daddy, is there really a baby in there-"

"It's really there, Sophie, I swear," Nick murmurs, sliding his arms around her. "I promise. And in a little while it's going to come out and say hello."

Sophie whimpers. "When?"

"A while, Sophie. Around Halloween. In October."

Sophie burrows her head in Nick's jumper, like she's trying to become part of him. It makes Harry's heart throb. Nick just holds her close, strokes down the back of her head.

"Are you happy, love?"

Sophie nods, cheek pressed to Nick's chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she chokes out.

Harry reaches over for a tissue and scrubs at his nose. Nick looks up at him, lip between his teeth.

"Sorry," Harry chokes. He grabs another tissue. "Just- really happy."

Sophie looks over at him.

"Why're you crying, daddy?" she says tearfully.

"I dunno, love. Cos I'm happy."

"Me too," Sophie whispers, before she puts her face in Nick's chest again.

\---

“Daddy,” Sophie whispers in his ear. Nick shifts her on his hip, squinting against the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window.

“What is it, love?”

“I wanna get downnn.”

“I know, Soph. Almost ready. Your dad’s just fetching another, uh, camera thing. Harry?”

“Just a minute!” Harry yells from upstairs. “Sit tight!”

“Dad!” Sophie’s louder now, wriggling in Nick’s arms. “Daddd, I don’t wanna wear this shirt. Dad. Dad. Daddy. Dad-”

“Oh my god, Sophie, _please_.” Nick pulls her arms around his neck.If he puts her down now she’ll be off like a shot. “Baby. We’ll be done in one minute, I promise.”

Sophie looks less than a minute from bursting into dramatic fake sobs. She pouts at him, and Nick kisses her cheek, looks up.

“Harry,” Nick calls again. “Hurry up!”

“Okay, coming, coming,” Harry says, breathless, as he piles into the kitchen. His bun is going lopsided and he’s carrying a massive camera. “Okay.”

“Daddy, I don’t wanna wear this shirt,” Sophie announces. “Dad-”

“We’re almost done, Soph, I promise,” Nick says, and then to Harry- “Can we go fast? Please? She’s two minutes from a meltdown.”

“Yeah, yes, sorry,” Harry says distractedly, screwing a black tube into the camera and then flicking  a button. The camera beeps. “Okay. Get in the light, yeah? A step forward-”

Nick sighs and takes a step forward, eyes screwing shut. Sophie yelps and covers her eyes with her hand.

“It’s bright,” he moans, and Sophie nods pitifully.

“A step back then.” Harry looks at them through the camera. “Go on. Yeah, against the counter. That’s perfect.”

“So the exact place we started,” Nick grumbles, and Harry pauses to give him a flat look above the camera. Nick bites down a laugh.

“Alright. Can you smile big for me, Sophs?”

“No,” Sophie whispers mutinously, and Nick properly laughs, hoisting her up on his hip.

“C’mon, love. We’ll get this over with and have tea.”

Sophie sighs, but she smiles, with all her teeth. Nick’s going to as well, but he looks down at his shirt and says, “Wait.”

Harry lowers the camera. “What?”

“I just- this makes it look like I’m the little sibling. Like it’s stupid.”

“Grim,” Harry says patiently. “I asked you before I ordered the shirt. You thought it was cute.”

“Can’t just Soph wear the shirt?”

“I hate the shirt,” Sophie puts in, arm digging into Nick’s windpipe, and Nick loosens her grip, choking a breath.

“Babe.”

“Daddyyy-”

“Haz, I’m taking the shirt off.”

“Oh my - god,” Harry says, setting the camera down. “Fine. C’mere.”

He plucks Sophie out of Nick’s arms, and Nick tugs the t-shirt over his head, leaving just the henley he slept in. That was the first problem, a t-shirt over a henley. Nick’s gained a half stone already, he doesn’t need more layers.

“I wanna take the shirt off _too_ , daddy,” Sophie whimpers. “Please-”

“No,” Harry says, long-suffering. “In a minute.”

He hands Sophie back over, and Nick props her up on his hip, tugs at her shirt so the camera’ll catch the words on the front.

“There we go,” Harry says. “There we - Sophie, please smile for me.”

Sophie sniffles mournfully and forces a smile.

Harry snaps a few shots, and Nick leans in to blow a raspberry against Sophie’s soft neck. She squeals ticklishly.

“C’mon, doll,” he whispers to her. “Give daddy a nice big happy smile. You’re happy about your baby brother or sister, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sophie says grudgingly.

“Let’s see it then. Silly faces.”

Sophie sticks out her tongue, and Nick laughs.

“Perfect. Silly goose.”

Sophie smiles for real, dimple popping out, and Nick hears the camera click. That one’ll be perfect, he can already tell.

\---

“So, who gets to post it?” Nick says later, over their tea of soup and ham sandwiches. Harry pours Sophie a careful glass of milk, trying not to drip as she dances in her chair, singing- _I'm thirstyyy I'm thirsty I want some milky-milk-_

“There you are,” Harry murmurs, screwing the cap on. “Please don’t spill, my love.”

He looks up at Nick. “Umm, dunno. We both should, right?”

Nick shrugs, sipping his tea. “I want the smiley one.”

“I’ll post the one where you’re looking at each other.” Harry smiles to himself. “I love that one.”

“Alright.”

Sophie keeps eating, spilling a fair amount of soup down her front, while Nick and Harry stare at their respective phones like good parents.

“Alright,” Nick announces. “Done.”

“Wait- already?” Harry looks up, brow furrowing. Nick’s setting his phone on the table. “I haven’t even written a caption.”

“C’mon, grandad. Look, I did a filter and everything. Juno’s the best for my skin tone-”

“You put a filter on your four year old daughter?” Harry laughs. “Jesus.”

Nick pulls a face at him, and turns his attention to Sophie when she accidentally knocks her sandwich onto the table.

Harry peers down at his phone, clicks to see the photo full-size again. Sophie has her tongue out, her _Big Sister_ shirt rumpled but visible, and Nick’s laughing at her, warm and fond. Harry’s heart goes wobbly.

_Our family’s growing and we couldnt be happier. I can’t wait to watch my little girl be a big sister. So excited for this journey with @nicholasgrimshaw._

He draws in a shaky breath and hits Post. It takes a moment to pop up, and Harry scrolls down to Nick’s post, snorts when he reads the caption.

“Really, Grim?”

“What?” Nick asks, wiping soup off Sophie’s chin.

Harry shakes his head. Nick’s posted the photo of both him and Sophie grinning at the camera. All Nick wrote was a baby emoji, a pink sparkly heart, a music note, and then - _Oops we did it again_

Harry likes it with a tap of his thumb.

“Thought we weren’t gonna tell anyone it was an accident.”

“It’s a Britney reference, Harold, calm down,” Nick says absently, mouth full of sandwich.

“What was an accident?” Sophie asks, blinking at both of them.

Harry hides a laugh behind his napkin. “Nothing, love.”  

\---

Harry shuts the bedroom door quietly behind him, drops his bag on the floor. Nick's on his side, uncovered from the waist up, his mouth open. Sophie's splayed out next to him, hair a curly mess spread over the pillow. Moonlight’s coming through the open curtains, casting them both in a silver glow.

Harry stands over them, staring shamelessly.

Christ, Nick's bigger than he was last week, when Harry left for LA. He's starting to round out gently with the baby inside him, and it makes Harry's heart hurt. It's still hard to believe. 

He lets out a long breath, and sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed.

The mattress squeaks, and Harry winces, watching them. Sophie doesn't stir, but Nick's eyes open, and he blinks blearily, patting his hand over his bare belly like he's checking it's still there.

"Hi," Harry says, and Nick startles.

"Hi," he says hoarsely. "God. Didn't see you."

"Sorry."

Nick yawns, flopping a hand out onto Harry's leg. "You're home."

"Yeah, I just got in."

Nick smiles sleepily. "Hi."

Harry laughs, and reaches out to rub Nick's stomach, skin warm and soft under his fingers. "How're you feeling?"

"Mmgh," Nick groans. "Alright. Tired. Sophie's been stroppy."

"Has she?" Harry looks over at her. She looks utterly innocent at the moment, all pink plump cheeks and delicate eyelashes.

"God yes. Had a tantrum when we were doing the shopping." Nick yawns again. "Had to pull her off the floor. Everyone staring at me like I was some evil child abuser."

Harry snorts. "Shit. Sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Should've been here, though." Harry bites his lip.

"Stoppp. Too sleepy for you to feel bad. Wash the airplane smell off you and come to bed, Haz."

"Anything, like- you know-"

"No, I haven't been poorly," Nick says, yawning. "Haven’t even puked all week. It's all been good. Stop _worrying_ , Haz."

Harry leans down to kiss him, relief spreading cool through his chest. Nick smells like toothpaste and aftershave and a hint of Sophie's shampoo, sweet and apple-y.

"Get in bed," Nick mumbles, tugging at Harry’s arm.

"I'll take Sophie to hers."

"Noo," Nick whines, and Harry looks at him, laughing.

"What?"

"I dunno, I like having her and the sprout," Nick says, sounding sheepish. "It's like. We're all together, I dunno, I think it's- it's good for me. Shut up, I know it's-"

"No," Harry says, his heart clenching. "It's fine. But - but not every night, Nick. S'not good for Sophie, she’s got to sleep on her own."

Nick sighs balefully, and puts his face in the pillow. "Fine. Shut up and come to bed, please."

Harry flicks the toilet light off ten minutes later, pulls his hair up into a bun, sighs. Nick's asleep again, breathing deep and even, but Sophie wakes up when Harry crawls into bed.

She mumbles something quiet, and Harry's breath catches. He forgets, sometime, that Sophie's _his_.

"G'night, love," he whispers, scooting closer to her in bed, and she throws out one arm, sticky-hot hand landing on Harry's neck. Harry kisses her knuckles, puts a thumb against the pulse in her wrist, slow and steady.

Sophie just sighs. Harry holds her hand, small and warm, and slips quickly into sleep.

\---

Nick's standing sleepily in front of the toilet to take a morning wee when he feels a clench of pain in his gut, as sudden and sharp as a punch.

"Shit," he mumbles, head spinning. He reaches to brace himself on the wall, but he misses and staggers backward, hands slipping. "Shit!"

He lands firmly on his arse on the tile, yelping in pain. "Jesus bloody-"

"Grim?" Harry nudges the door open. "Oh, fuck, love, you alright?"

"No," Nick mutters. He brushes himself off, and Harry offers him a hand up. "Ugh. Got dizzy for a minute."

"Dizzy?"

"I dunno." Nick straightens up, wipes a hand over his face. "Wasn't anything. Soz, love. Did I wake you?"

"No." Harry yawns, leans down to splash water over his face. "Woke up a few hours ago if I'm honest. Soph's up too. I just keep thinking about today, couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, me too." Nick resettles himself in front of the toilet while Harry grabs for his toothbrush. "Be honest, which- which do you want? C'mon."

Harry makes a protesting sound around the toothbrush, pulling a face at him, and Nick pouts. Yes, he knows Harry's been saying for the last four months that he doesn't care if it's a boy or a girl. He gets that. Of course they won't _care_. But it's alright to have an _opinion_.

He nudges Harry aside with his hip and sticks his hands under the tap. "C'mon, Hazza."

Harry spits into the sink, narrowly missing Nick's hands. "I told you already-"

"I know." Nick sighs. "Sorry. You're a better person than me, I get it."

Harry lifts a handful of water to his mouth, spits it back out. "Shut it."

"Just, like." Nick reaches over him for the eye cream. "Can you imagine having a boy? A boy."

"Yeah, I can," Harry says seriously.

"I dunno." Nick stares into the mirror as he pats cream under his eyes. "A boy. Boys are scary."

"You're insane," Harry laughs. "That makes no sense."

"But you love me." Nick presses a kiss to Harry's bare shoulder. His head throbs, a remnant of the weird dizziness from earlier, and he reaches across Harry to grab the paracetamol.

"You feeling alright?"

Nick pops a couple pills, washes them down with a swallow of water. "Fine. Just a little headache."

"You should tell Dr. Sani today. Might as well, as long as we're there."

"Mm," Nick hums, noncommittally. "Maybe."

He ducks out of the toilet before Harry can badger him anymore, laughs when he sees Sophie curled up in the mess of their bedsheets, face poking out from the crumpled white duvet.

"What're you doing, you weirdo? Thought you were eating breakfast."

"I finished," she says, innocently. 

"Well, let's get up, love. We're going to the doctor today."

She burrows under the sheets, giggling, and Nick snorts and whips the covers off the bed, grabs for her as she squirms away.

"Daddy!"

"C'mon, my darling."

"I don't wanna go."

"We've got to." Nick hoists her up on his hip. He feels a wave of vertigo and he sucks in a sharp breath, clutching her closer so he doesn't fall right over. "Jesus."

She doesn't notice the stagger in his step, just slings her arms around his neck.

"Alright," Nick says, shaking himself. "Downstairs now. Did you eat all your brekkie?"

She puts her chin on his shoulder. "Almost."

"Almost?"

"Yeah."

Nick sighs, picking his way down the stairs, careful not to step on a discarded puzzle piece. He's got no idea why Harry keeps buying bloody puzzles. Sophie hates them and Pig's chewed up about a dozen pieces already. "Can you eat the rest of it, please?"

"It's cold now, daddy."

"I'll heat it up."

"Nooo," Sophie moans into his ear. "I'm not hungry."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Alright, love."

"Can I give it to Piggy?"

"No, love." Nick sets her down, straightens up with a groan. "Piggy doesn't eat human food, we talked about this."

"Yes, she does. She will if you give it to her. She loves it!"

"And how d'you know that, young lady? Since I told you never to give her any."

Sophie claps a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Ever the dramatic. "Oops," she says, muffled.

Nick laughs, starts to clear the table. Sophie only ate about half her porridge, but Harry makes it all healthy with barely any sugar and chia seeds and shite. Nick wouldn't finish it either.

Harry clatters down the stairs ten minutes later, jangling his keys. "We ready?" 

"Let's do it."

\---

"God," Harry chokes, an hour later, clutching Sophie to him. "Oh my god. Nick."

"Again?" Nick asks Dr. Sani, as she smiles, sonogram in hand. He's weird-crying a bit, some kind of automatic reaction. Harry's squeezing his knee with one hand. "Are you sure?"

"It's not entirely conclusive, but it's close."

"Jesus," Nick breathes. He scrubs at his eyes, and Sophie crawls onto his lap. "Oh, god. Hi, hi, darling." 

"I'm gonna have a little sister?" Sophie says, reaching for the paper in Dr. Sani's hand. Dr. Sani hands it over and Sophie peers at it like she's got any idea how to read. "What's this say? Daddy, what's it say?"

"It says we're having a girl," Harry says, voice watery. "Says we're having another girl. You're going to have a sister, Soph."

"Another girl," Nick breathes. "Two girls. What the hell, Haz."

Harry's smiling at him, eyes red around the edges. He looks very young like that, and a bit scared. Nick's so, so bloody glad he's here.

"I love you," Harry says, rough and honest.

Nick squeezes Harry's hand on his thigh and digs out his phone, balancing it on Sophie's knees, reaching around her to type.

_#2 is a girl, Sophies getting a sister_

He adds a couple baby emojis and every color of heart before he sends it off to a dozen people. 

"Nick?" Dr. Sani says.

"Yeah," he says quickly, clicking the screen off. "Yes. Sorry."

"Can we schedule our next appointment now, or would you prefer to ring the office later?"

"I- can we- sorry, I was just. Haz, can we now, or do you want to call?"

Harry's scrubbing at his nose with a tissue, still grinning so hard it looks like it hurts. "I dunno. I'm pretty open, I think."

"We- let me just get my-" Nick tries to swipe to his calendar, but Aimee texts him five times in succession, and then Collette, and then Henry.

_OMG_

_I fucking knew it_

_A GIRL FUCK YES_

_is sophie pumped_

_is harry crying i bet he's crying right now_

-

_Oh that's lovely Grim !!! So happy for you both Xxxx_

-

_AHHHHHH ANOTHER GIRL OMG DIVA #2 [fingernail emoji] one more and you can recreate HAIM_

-

Nick stares at the messages for a minute.

"Nick," Dr. Sani says, huffing a laugh.

"Sorry. I- we'll just ring you, can we just ring you?"

"Of course you can."

Nick turns his phone screen off with shaky fingers.

"Should we- let's go home," he says to Harry. "Should we just go home?"

"Yeah," Harry says thickly. He's still looking at Nick all awestruck, like Nick's a sunset or some shite. It's that sort of look that scares Nick shitless, even as he wants to bask in it for the rest of his life. "Let's go home."

\---

Harry settles down onto the sofa, scooting Sophie aside to make room, Pig curled up on the floor at their feet. Nick’s blinking exhaustedly, eating popcorn kernel by kernel, and Harry reaches across the bowl to kiss his temple, place a hand on his stomach. They were at the hospital today, because Nick started bleeding - again. Everything looks fine. Normal. Apparently it happens sometimes, and it doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s wrong, and the most important thing for Nick to do is rest.

Nick’s quite shit at resting. But they’re trying their best.

“Be careful, daddy,” Sophie commands, picking up Harry’s hand with both of hers and lifting it off Nick’s belly. “There’s a baby in there.”

“I know that, darling,” Harry says, trying not to laugh. “I was saying hello. Remember how we say hello to the baby?”

“But you have to be _careful_ ,” Sophie insists. “Right, daddy?”

“Right,” Nick says, voice low and hoarse. He ruffles Sophie’s hair. “Very careful. No yelling or having tantrums.”

“I know,” Sophie says, brows furrowing. “I’m being careful.”

“Yes, you are, you’re being wonderful,” Harry says, heart squeezing. He scoops Sophie up into his lap, kisses her face. “You’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

“If we get that far,” Nick mutters.

Harry looks over at him, as Sophie cuddles up against his chest, squirming her arm over Harry’s for a handful of popcorn. “Dr. Sani said it’d be fine.”

“Then why do I keep-” Nick starts, low in his throat. He sniffs in hard, looks away. “Never mind. Let’s play the - the film.”

Harry looks down at Sophie, quiet on his lap. He thinks she can feel it, whenever they come home from the doctor’s. The first time it happened, three weeks ago, Nick thought he’d miscarried. He was white-faced and silent all the way to the hospital, right up until the doctor checked for a heartbeat and found one. It was the worst bloody day of Harry’s life so far.

Harry doesn’t know what to do at this point. He doesn’t know what to do except make sure that Nick rests.

He’s so fucking scared. Of course he’s scared, but he can’t say it, and he can’t let Sophie know.

The movie’s a cartoon one about animals in a hotel, and Harry falls asleep about ten minutes in. He wakes up to Sophie sleeping with her head on his thigh and Nick nowhere to be found.

“Love you,” he whispers to Sophie, stroking her cheek. He leaves her there, stands up slowly from the sofa, joints cracking as he rolls his shoulders.

Nick’s in the toilet in the bathroom, slowly brushing his teeth. Harry peers in at him, and then does a double-take when he sees that Nick’s crying.

“Oh god,” he says. Nick glances over at him, chokes out a sob with a mouthful of toothpaste. “Oh god, love, don’t cry-”

“I’m not,” Nick garbles out, and nearly chokes again, and Harry takes the toothbrush out of his mouth.

“You’ll choke on that, Grim. Spit.”

Nick spits, straightens up and sobs again. Harry puts his arms around Nick’s shoulders, holds him tight.

“Shh, it’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Nick mumbles. “It’s not alright.”

“It is. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine, alright?”

Nick shakes his head, and Harry walks him backwards into the bedroom, sits him down.

“Nick,” he says, low. “Dr. Sani said it’s normal.”

“It’s not fucking normal.” Nick coughs, rubs his nose with his wrist. “It wasn’t like this with Soph. I feel messed up.”

He sucks in a breath, and sobs again. “I can’t, I can’t, Harry, fuck, I’m not - I’m not strong enough for this, alright? I can’t. I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry-”

“Oh Jesus, Nick, don’t - don’t be sorry.” Harry’s throat hurts. He rubs his hand down Nick’s back.

“I am, though,” Nick chokes. “I’m sorry-”

“Nick.” Harry pulls him closer, feels the heavy warmth of him. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. Anything. All I care about is you being safe and Sophie being safe. I just want you to feel good.”

“Well I _don’t_ ,” Nick says, thickly. He chokes a bitter laugh. “I don’t feel good.”

“Alright, so, we’ll- we’ll work on it. You have to rest, and be so careful, okay? That’s - that’s the way it is right now. You just need to rest, love. And stay healthy. We’ll get through it.”

“I’m so scared,” Nick breathes out. “God.”

Harry puts his face against Nick’s shoulder. “I know.”

“If I- if I lose her-”

“Shh, sh, Nick, don’t,” Harry chokes out. “Don’t. We’re not going to.”

Nick shivers, reaches up to wipe his eyes.

“You’ll still, like. Be here?” he whispers. “If I-”

“Fucking Christ, Grim, yes,” Harry says fiercely. “Don’t be- of course I will. No matter what.“ 

Nick sniffs hard. 

“Where’s Soph?” he asks, after a minute.

“Sofa. She’s passed out.” 

Nick nods. “I’ll get her, alright?” 

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Nick sniffs again, smiles strained and wide. “Go to bed, I’ll be in in a bit.” 

Harry watches him leave. 

He brushes his teeth, splashes water over his face. When he’s done flossing Nick’s still not back, so he nudges the bedroom door open. 

They’re not on the sofa. Harry absently folds the throw blanket, drapes it over the back of the couch. 

Finally he finds them, in Sophie’s bed. Nick’s sat on the edge of the bed, Sophie curled next to him, murmuring sleepily. She reaches up to put her palm to Nick’s belly, and Nick laughs quietly, puts his hand over hers. 

The door creaks as Harry leans on it and they both look up. Nick smiles.  

“Hi, daddy,” Sophie murmurs. 

“Hi love.” His voice sounds hoarse.

“Good night, babe,” Nick says, picking up Sophie’s hand and kissing it. “Sweet dreams.” 

Sophie must be tired, cos she doesn’t protest when Nick stands up, just snuggles into her pillows, eyes falling shut. 

“Night, Soph,” Harry whispers, flicking the lamp off. 

\---

"Ah, I'm off dairy," Nick says, when Aimee offers him a slice of pizza.

"Dieting when you're knocked up, what's the point?" Pixie says, grabbing a piece. "Aims, remember when you were having Alex and you ate like four double burgers from Mcdonald's-"

"Oh my god, yes. That was amazing." Aimee sighs wistfully.

"It's not _dieting_ , I've- my- my stomach's been weird." Nick takes a sip of tea. "I didn't, uh, tell you. Any of you, yet, but. Well. Things have been a bit weird."

Aimee stops mid-bite, and Pixie puts down her wine. "How d'you mean?"

"Umm," Nick says, forcing a laugh. "Well. I've gone into hospital a few times-"

" _What_?" Aimee breathes.

"- but it's not serious. Or it is, sort of, but I'm fine."

Pixie's watching him fearfully.

"There's just been a lot of, er, bleeding," Nick says, swallowing. "So I've had to go in, uh, two or three times."

"Bleeding," Aimee repeats.

Nick shrugs into his water. "Yeah."

"Grim, what the - what the fuck does that mean, that you're bleeding," Pixie says, sounding shaky.

"They said it can be common with second pregnancies, alright? I just have to, like, stay in bed and do nothing. And wash my hands loads."

"You're on bed rest?"

"Not for like, every hour of the day. Just. Y'know. Supposed to take it easy, whatever." Nick wiggles one hand in a vague approximation of taking it easy.

"But you DJ'ed last night."

"Well, I'm not gonna stop my whole _life._ It was a short set, anyway."

"But you're like, okay, right?" Pixie asks, voice going small. "Like everything's gonna be fine. Right?"

Nick thinks about it. Sometimes he thinks so. And then sometimes his body wakes him in the middle of the night, pulls him out of sleep with a start, and he gropes for a pillow and stares into darkness, terrified, Harry snoring against his back. He gets up for a wee and ends up in Sophie's doorway, watching her soft sleeping face bathed in moonlight and trying not to cry. Sometimes he feels like it's worse than anyone's letting on.

"Nick," Aimee says, loud.

"I'll be fine," Nick says automatically. "It's just a pain in the arse. It'll be fine."

Pixie stares at him for a bit, and then looks down. "Alright," she says, sniffing. "So- so what film are we watching?"

\---

"Thanks, Gem," Harry says, peering after Sophie as she sprints down the hall to the guestroom, calling for Gemma's cat. "We appreciate it. I can come by tomorrow, if you want-"

"Take Sunday too, Harry, it's fine." She looks at him worriedly. "How's Nick?"

Harry chews his lip. Shrugs. "He's alright."

"Feeling better?"

"Not- not really. Really tired still. He's been having these, like, stomach pains lately, sort of like contractions, I guess, but, um. The doctor said they're not - actually-"

Harry stops, voice cracking. "Shit. Sorry."

Gemma wraps her arms around him. "Fuck."

"Yeah. Sorry. I just- we've gone over it so many times. I'm so fucking tired of talking about it."

She rubs his back, soft and careful.  

"He's scared," Harry says, shakily. "I am too."

"I know. It's fucking shit. I'm sorry."

"I feel like- like I have to be strong, y'know, because he's - he's hurting, and I- I can't just, like."

Harry can't go on. His throat closes up.

"Auntie Gemma!" they both hear, and Harry shakes himself, rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

"I should go."

"I'll ring you before bed, okay? So you can say goodnight."

Harry nods, and Gemma squeezes him hard, presses a kiss against his cheek.

"It's gonna be alright," she says in his ear. "You'll get through this, alright? It's just a hiccup."

Harry nods again. She ruffles his hair, and turns away.

\---

When he gets back, Nick's in the kitchen, peering into the fridge.

Harry shuts the front door behind him, flips the lock. "Hey, love."

"Hi," Nick says, sounding tired. He's always sounding that way lately. Harry tries not to be scared of that. It's temporary. No matter what happens, even if - if they lose the baby, it's temporary.

"We've got like nothing in, I'm sorry. Should I go grab summat?"

"No, it's alright," Nick says, shutting the fridge with a clunk. "Feel like a bit of toast."

"A bit of toast sounds perfect." Harry touches Nick's shoulder hesitantly. "How're you feeling?"

Nick doesn't look at him, tugging two pieces of bread from the package and setting them in the toaster. "Fine."

"Grim-"

"I'm fine, Harry." He lets out a ragged breath. "Was Soph alright, staying at Gemma's?"

"Yeah, she was fine. Ran off without saying goodbye."

Nick huffs out a laugh. "Of course."

"Gem said she could stay til Sunday, if we want. If you need more time."

Nick nods, slowly.

"Maybe," he says. "I just - I want to be, like. There for her. I want to be with her. I'm just so tired, Hazza. I can't be like all - all _on_ , for her. Y'know?"

He chokes out a humorless laugh, and Harry's chest clenches.

"It's alright," he says, trying not to show how bloody scared he is. "You've got to rest, it's fine. It's just for now. Sophie'll understand."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Yeah, she's such a logical and forgiving four-year-old."

Harry laughs, and they both startle when the toaster dings. Nick pads over to it, pulls out his toast, hissing and licking his burned fingers.

"Want me to put some in for you?" he asks, fumbling for the butter dish.

"Nah, it's alright." Harry leans over to press a kiss against his shoulder. "Love you."

"Yeah," Nick says vaguely. "You too."

\---

“Hii, Nick,” Rachel at the front desk says, waving him past security. “Lookin’ good, babe, when’re you due again?”

“October.”

“How’s it going?”

“Good, good, thanks,” Nick lies breezily. “Sorry, I’m late for my meeting-”

“Of course, babe, go on in.” She waves him off.

He leans against the wall of the empty elevator, lets out a long breath as he starts making his familiar way upward. It’s nuts, how many times he’s been in this building. He still remembers the first time, coming in for an interview, so dazzled and terrified he thought he’d throw up. The _Beeb_. It’s all he ever wanted.

Nick shuts his eyes, just for a moment. He knows this isn’t the end. He knows it’s just a break, and he’ll be back once the baby’s born, and he’ll be alright. But still. He swallows queasily, and the elevator dings. Top floor.

“There he is,” his agent calls down the hall. She pulls him into a one-armed hug when he’s closer.

“Hi, Melissa.”

“Oh my _god_ , let me see you.” She holds him by the shoulders. “Look at you! Really showing now.”

“Don’t remind me, I can’t see my bloody feet.”

“Oh, you look great.” She pats his cheek with one hand. “And how are you feeling?”

Nick tries to smile. “Alright.”

She clucks her tongue. “Harry said you’ve not been well.”

“I’m fine, just.” He shrugs. “Just need a bit more rest, I suppose. That's what the doctor says.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it.” She squeezes his shoulder. “Sara’s inside, Andrew’s here.”

“Am I last?”

“Well, no, Matt was filling in on Greg’s show, so he’ll be late.”

“Yess, here before Finchy.” Nick pushes the conference room door open, laughs when Sara hoots from the other side of the table.

“Grimmy! Sight for sore eyes.”

“Three days apart, she can’t stand to be without me,” Nick sighs, to whoever’s listening, who happens to be Andy. “Hiya, big boss.”

“Hi Nick.” Andy huffs a laugh, and Nick kisses his cheek. “Good to see you.”

“You too.”

“How’s the family?”

“Oh, lovely. Sophie’s discovered she can reach the sweets shelf if she stands on a kitchen chair, so we’ve all been dealing with that.”

Andy huffs a laugh, and Sara snorts. “Took her long enough.”

“I know, right? C’mon Sophs, be a little more ambitious.” Nick slides into his seat as Sara leans over to hug him round the shoulders. “Mm, good morning, Co-host Coxy.”

“Morning, babe.”

“How’s it been without me?”

“Awful. Boring.” Sara squeezes his hand. “But I guess I’d better get used to that, eh?”

Nick sighs, scooting his chair in as far as he can go. “We’ll talk about it.”

“How are you feeling? Really.”

Nick looks up as Matt bustles his way in, giving Nick a wave, notebook in one hand.

“A bit terrible,” he says, and she squeezes his hand tighter, wincing. “But like. I'll sort it out.”

“Oh, babes.”

“I know, it’s stupid. Least it's my birthday next week. And a holidayyy, thank God.” Nick sighs, just as Matt sits across from him. “Morning, Fincham!”

“Morning, Nick.” Matt takes a sip of tea. “How are you?”

“Amazing, and you?”

“Fine.” Matt shuffles his papers, all business-like, and Nick sticks out his tongue at him. Matt rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late, everyone, should we get started?”

“Let’s,” Andrew says distractedly, staring down at his phone. He sets it down with a clunk, looks up, and suddenly they're all staring at Nick. "Nick, you want to tell us why we're here?"

"Well," Nick says, swallowing. "So. I know I've been a bit MIA lately, but, like, I swear it's not my fault. Actually suppose I've got a- a pretty good excuse."

"What is it?" That's Finchy, leaning across the desk, brow furrowed.

"Well, so." Nick huffs a breath, covers one hand with the other to keep himself from fidgeting. "So. Here's the deal."

\---

Mallorca is perfect. The house is perfect, the pool is perfect, and best of all, Nick loves it. He does a tour with Sophie while Harry unpacks, and Harry can hear them both laughing through the wide-open bay windows in the master bedroom.

It’s nice, to hear Nick laugh. It’s been a rough week - two doctor’s appointments and a meeting at the BBC that finalized Nick’s paternity leave, effective immediately. On top of that he’s been getting dizzy when he stands up in the mornings, and there was an article in Heat about their failing marriage or some shite. Harry didn’t read it all the way through, but Nick probably did.

So it’s good, that they’re away from it all for a bit. Nick’s birthday is tomorrow, and he can just - relax. Do nothing. But on holiday, where it’s acceptable to do nothing and he won’t get restless. Harry knows he’ll get restless soon enough.

They have dinner at a place in town, stuff themselves with fresh seafood and pasta, and stumble back to the house once it’s dark out, Sophie holding both of their hands between them and telling a long story about a film she saw about a fish.

Sophie changes into her bathing suit once they’re back, even though it’s past nightfall, and Harry grudgingly joins her in the pool, holding her waist as she splashes around, Nick sprawled on a chaise lounge laughing at the both of them.

He’s still laughing when they make their way out of the pool and Sophie throws herself onto the lounge next to him, lays on her back and stares up at the stars, panting.

“I love holiday,” she says dreamily, and Harry laughs, tosses her a towel. It covers her face and she squeals, batting it away.

“Me too.”

“Me three,” Nick says sleepily, reaching over to hold Sophie’s hand, and Harry hides his grin in his towel.

\---

Harry comes awake to the bed rustling, dipping under Nick's weight. He opens his eyes blearily as Nick stands up.

"Grim?"

"Shh, just need the loo," Nick murmurs, not looking at him, back turned.

Harry lets out a breath and nestles down into the plush mattress. "Kay."

He falls back asleep for a bit, wakes up to the sound of the toilet flushing. The sink runs for a minute, but the toilet door doesn't open, and Nick doesn't come back to bed.

Harry lifts his head halfway. He can see light leaking out from under the door.

There's a loud thunk and then - muffled under the running water but audible - the choked sound of Nick being sick.

Harry sits up so fast it makes his head spin. Nick spits, hard, and then vomits again, loud and harsh.

"Shit," Harry mumbles, as he stumbles upright.

The toilet door's locked. Harry jiggles the doorknob, knocks lightly on the door.

"Nick?" he calls, softly.

Nick coughs. Spits again.

"I'm fine," he says, hoarse and low. Harry twists the doorknob again, uselessly. "Go back to bed."

"Open the door, Grim."

"Go back to bed!"

Harry thunks his forehead against the door, lets out a sharp breath. He hates when Nick does this. He hates it. There's this fierce little part of Nick, right at his core, that doesn't want anyone's help. Harry can fight it as much as he wants but Nick never bloody gives in.

"Grim, c'mon, please. Open the fucking door."

The toilet flushes again.

"Nick _please_ ," Harry chokes, and the door opens under his head. He nearly stumbles forward.

Nick flicks the light off, stands there in shadowy moonlight. The toilet smells of acid and too much air freshener. It makes Harry's nose wrinkle.

"You're poorly," Harry says stupidly, as Nick pushes past him to go back to bed.

"I'm fine." Nick coughs into his elbow, spits into the bin by his bedside. "Just the food, I guess. I feel fine now."

He gets back into bed, pulling at the cream-white duvet.

Harry scrubs a hand over his nose and gets back in beside him.

"What d'you think it was that you ate?"

"The fish, probably." Nick's voice is shot. Harry wants to reach over and touch him, but he holds himself back. Nick hasn't liked that very much lately. "I dunno. Sorry to wake you."

"It's alright." Harry inches closer to him. "It's fine, love. I'm sorry you're sick."

"I'm fine."

He's lying. What makes him lie like that, to his own fucking husband?

Harry should shut up and go to sleep and talk about this later, when they're not on holiday, when it's not 3 AM.

Instead he says, thickly, "Why won't you talk to me?"

Nick goes very still.

"I don't get why you won't- like, I just, I care about you." Harry's voice is starting to wobble. Shit. "I just want to know how you're feeling-"

"I told you, I'm _fine_."

"You're not fine."

Nick chokes a sour laugh. "You say you want me to tell you how I feel and then when I do you say I'm lying. That's _great_ , Harry. What a fun conversation."

"You know you're not fine. You're being fucking sick at three in the bloody morning, you're not fine-"

"I was just sick, Harry. Sometimes sick is just sick."

"I don't get why you're doing this," Harry chokes. "I just don't, like-"

"Because I'm bloody tired!" Nick snaps, shoulders hunching, back to Harry. "I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it all the fucking time! Just leave me the fuck alone, Haz. _Jesus_."

Harry can't breathe for a second, and then he lets it out, slow and shaking.

"Fine," he says, after a taut silence.

Nick drags a pillow to his chest, holds it tight. "Fine."

Harry sits up. His blood's buzzing furiously. He grabs his pillow and makes his way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Part of him wants to slam it, but he's not a fucking toddler. Not like _Nick_ , who can't fucking admit when he's feeling poorly to his own fucking husband.

He drives Harry mad. Completely bleeding mad.

Sophie's fast asleep in bed, clutching Rexy, hair starting to dry in messy curls on the pillow. Harry doesn't disturb her, just watches from the doorway for a minute and then turns.

He fills a glass of water from the filter, gulps it down. The house is quiet enough so Harry can hear the ocean. He shuts his eyes and listens.

It makes his heart slow, makes his blood pressure drop. Takes him ten minutes, but eventually he's calm enough to go back upstairs.

He's pushing the door open when he hears something, and his ears prick. If Nick's being sick again, they're going in, Harry doesn't care what he says. They'll find a bloody doctor somewhere.  

But it's not Nick being sick. The sound comes again, low and rough, and Harry's chest clenches when he realizes what it is.

Nick's crying.

Harry pushes the door open, heart caught in his throat, and Nick goes abruptly silent. He's on his side in bed, facing away from the door, duvet up to his neck.

Harry crawls into bed. Puts a hand on Nick's side.

"Love," he whispers. His eyes hurt. "Nick. Hey."  

Nick chokes a wet breath.

"Hey," Harry says again, fiercely. He pulls the duvet back, gets in behind Nick, presses up against his back. Slings an arm around and under his shirt to touch the curve of his belly, palm open against the skin. His heart's pounding. "Hey, hey, don't cry."

"I'm not," Nick mumbles.

"Shh, shh, it's alright-"

"Just stop it, Haz," Nick says, breathless, before he sobs again, curls in on himself. Harry wriggles closer, terrified.

"Why're you crying?"

"M'not."

Harry kisses the back of his neck. "Please, love. Please, c'mon-"

"You're gonna leave me," Nick chokes out, and Harry's eyes widen in the darkness.

"What?"

"You're gonna- you don't- you don't want to do this," Nick wobbles out. "You're gonna leave me-"

"No, no, I'm not," Harry says numbly, pulling Nick closer. "No I'm not. Why're you- why're you saying that, Grim, I'm never leaving you, you know that-"

Nick just weeps, puts his face in the crook of his elbow and sobs desperately. It scares the shit out of Harry. Nick doesn't break down like this.

He stays close, tucked up against Nick's shuddering back.

"I love you so much," he whispers into Nick's neck, damp with sweat. "I'm never leaving, I promise-"

"Don't fucking promise that," Nick mumbles. "Don't."

"But it's - I mean it, Grim."

"You don't."

"I do, fuck. I do." Harry nearly whimpers into Nick's hair, the soft skin of his neck. "I'm spending the rest of my fucking life with you. I swear. Shh, I swear."

Nick quiets after a while, til his breathing is thick but even.

"Love you," Harry murmurs, eyes closed. He keeps his hand on Nick's belly. "Love you."

Nick just sighs, slow.

"Sorry," he says eventually, voice small.

Harry's half-asleep, but he kisses Nick's neck.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbles. “Love you.”

\---

Harry climbs back into the boat, pushing his hair back from his face, and Nick whistles loud, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair.

"Well, helloooo, rockstar," he says, and Harry snorts. They haven't talked about last night, but Nick's been acting - better. Lighter.

"Hi Grim." He shakes his hair out onto Nick, and Nick yelps.

"Stoppit!"

Harry laughs, pulling his hair up into a bun, water dripping down his neck.

"Daddy!" Sophie calls. She'd been splashing around with Harry in the water, and she's dripping everywhere, a towel clutched in one hand, floaties still on her arms.

"Is that my fishy girl?" Nick laughs, as Sophie clambers up onto the seat next to him, tugging off the floaties and tossing them aside. Harry has to catch one before it sails off the upper deck. "Look who's a big fish."

"I'm not a fish," Sophie says, crawling onto Nick's lap, and Nick whines.

"You're getting me all wet, darling."

"Oops," Sophie says unrepentantly, reaching for Nick's phone. "Can I play Fruit Ninja?"

"S'pose you can. Only cos we're on holiday. And dry your hands, love, or the phone won't work."

He helps Sophie rub her hands on her towel, settles her in his lap, the towel on his thighs.

"You want a drink?" Harry asks, once Sophie's happily staring at Nick's screen, her sunglasses on.

"Do we still have that fizzy water?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"The mango one would be amazing, thanks, Hazza. You want a fizzy water, Sophs?"

"Yeah," Sophie says automatically, not looking up.

"You want berry, love?"

"Lemon," Sophie says distractedly.

"What do you say?"

"Pleeease."

"Good girl," Nick says, kissing her ear, watching the screen over her shoulder.

Harry watches them for a moment, and then turns away when Nick looks up at him.

If Nick feels alright, if they've reached some kind of shaky equilibrium, Harry's not gonna question it. Maybe that's just what Nick needs right now, a bit of space. Harry hates it, but he can do it. If it's what Nick needs.

\---

Nick turns the water on as hot as it'll go, scrubs at the stained boxers with a palmful of bleach. It's so stupid, that he's still bleeding. Just rarely enough that it fools him, and he thinks it's over with, and then he ruins another pair of pants.

His stomach twinges hard and he lets out a rough breath, presses his palm against it.

"Settle down," he mutters. She doesn't listen, and Nick grits his teeth against another cramp, hunches over and keeps scrubbing. He'd throw his pants in the laundry, only he doesn't want anything else to get dirty, and - and maybe he doesn't want Harry to know.

Harry doesn't need to worry about this, when the doctor's already said it's alright. Nick's fine. He's just bleeding a bit. It doesn't mean anything awful, and-

Nick chokes at a clench of pain low in his belly, braces himself on the sink. _Ouch_.

"The fuck are you doing in there," he whispers to the baby. "Stop being a brat."  

He sounds like a nutter, whispering to a fetus. But oh well. Harry and Sophie are gone, over at Gemma's to bake some fruit tart Harry had wanted to try, so no one's there to hear him going slowly insane.

Nick wipes sweat off his forehead with his wrist, reaches down to rub bleach right into the stain. It smells strong and sharp, makes his head spin a little. Maybe he's not supposed to be around bleach. He knows he's not supposed to drink it, of course, but - can he smell it? What if he's inhaling it and the baby'll get poisoned?

He turns the sink off, lets out a rough breath. God, he's hot. Stupid hot water steaming up the whole toilet and making him dizzy. It's bloody tropical in there.

He pulls the plug out of the tap, wrings the pair of pants out over the drain. The stain's still there, barely faded. Fantastic.

Nick heaves a sigh and drops the pants into the bin. He covers them with some loo roll, just in case Harry peeks in. Not that he's hiding, it's just -

Oh fuck it. He is hiding. He's hiding the blood, and the cramps he keeps having, and the way he can't stop getting panicky at night, ever since they got back from Mallorca last week. He's hiding it all because it's his bloody business, and Harry'll just go mental, and Nick's _fine_.

Nick sniffs in hard and goes to tuck the bleach back into the laundry cabinet.

He's halfway there when his gut clenches and releases, a tight shock of pain that makes his breath catch.

"Ow," he whispers, holding himself very still and trying to breathe. "Stop that."

It doesn't stop. Another wave of pain washes over him and Nick shuts his eyes, grabbing onto the wall of the hallway. His face is still sweating, goosepimples crawling queasily over his overheated skin. God, being pregnant is stupid. He doesn't remember this from Sophie, though maybe he's just blocked it out now, or maybe he-

His knees buckle, the plastic container of bleach falling from his hand and clattering on the ground, and he puts all his weight on the wall, eyes going wide. Shit. That definitely never happened with Sophie.

He needs his phone. He needs Harry. He needs to lie down, and he-

He takes another step and falls, stupidly, until he's on his knees on the floor, trembling. His legs feel like jelly and his face is dripping sweat and this is not normal. It's not fucking normal. Fuck, what if he's having her? Or what if he's- it slips into his mind, that maybe he's miscarrying, and-

Harry. He needs Harry to come back right now. His phone's on the nightstand in the bedroom but Nick can't move, and he maneuvers himself best he can til he's sitting on the floor, against the wall, an insistent throb between his legs and in his stomach. His hands are shaking and everywhere feels sticky with sweat. He shuts his eyes, hears the rough sound of his own breath, shuddering in and out. He just needs Harry, and it'll be alright. Harry will fix it.

\---

"Now we've got to be quiet, don't we, in case your dad's still sleeping-"

"Daddy!" Sophie yells, and Harry huffs out a laugh, shutting the door behind them.

"Soph, don't yell-"

"Daaaddy!" she sings, skipping down the hallway, and Harry sets the foil-wrapped pan of raspberry tart on the kitchen counter.

"Daddy!" he hears again, louder this time, her voice high and shrill.

"Sophie, c'mon-"

"Daddy!" He hears Sophie's footsteps, pounding down the hall, and then she's stumbling into the kitchen with her eyes wide. "Daddy won't wake up!"

Harry looks up from his tangled car keys. "What?"

"Daddy please," Sophie chokes out, tears wobbling in her eyes, and Harry feels something drop in his stomach, heavy and cold.

He follows her out of the kitchen, chokes when he sees Nick on the ground. He's slumped against the wall, head down, eyes shut. Perfectly still. Harry can't breathe.

"He won't wake up," Sophie gasps, already starting to cry, and Harry drops to his knees next to Nick.

"Grim," he says, very steady, his body taut with panic. "Grim, wake up."

Nick groans, head lolling, and when Harry puts a hand on his face he hisses. Nick's burning up. His skin is flushed, hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

"Shit," Harry chokes out. "Sophie, go fetch my phone off the counter."

"Dad," Sophie whimpers.

"Sophie, go!"

Sophie takes off down the hall, and Harry cups Nick's face in both his hands.

"Nick." His voice is strained. "Nick, wake up a little bit, please, please. Nick. Wake up. Wake the fuck _up_ , Nick, _please_ -"

Nothing except another groan.

Sophie gives him his phone and crawls onto Nick, reaching for his belly and then his neck, crying. Nick's eyes don't open.

"Sophie," Harry says, as he calls 999. "Sophie, don't - Sophie don't touch him, please, Soph-"

"Daddy!"

"Sophie!" Harry snaps, yanking her off with an arm around her waist. She weeps, struggles against him as he relays what happened into the phone, voice trembling. He doesn't even know what to say. _Fever. 29 weeks pregnant. Won't wake up. Hurry please._

He throws the phone aside and grabs Sophie with both arms as she nearly slips out of his grasp.

"Daddy, no," she sobs, hitting him with curled fists.

"Shh, sh, sh, it's all gonna be fine," Harry chokes out, rocking her back and forth. He can't stop shaking. "I promise, shh. Everything's gonna be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hello on ihavea1dbloghelp! but please don't ask about medical stuff because i have no idea this is fic and i'm not a doctor 
> 
> thanks to everyone on tumblr who has enjoyed this verse!!

 

Nick's in the hospital for two days. Was an infection, apparently, a UTI that turned into something worse. He wakes up after a few hours, an IV in his hand, fluids and antibiotics, and he won't stop mumbling how he's _sorry_.

It feels like a fucking nightmare, all of it. They're saying how it could've been worse - how if it happens again they might need to induce labor, get the baby out. Harry listens dazedly while Nick's sister takes careful notes, her face sharp and pale from lack of sleep. They'd all driven down once Harry had called from the hospital. Anne's there too, and Gemma. All the troops.

When Nick's released, they set up camp in their house. Harry wants to protest, but he feels weird and wobbly and maybe they do need some people with their heads on straight.

How did Harry not _see_ it? The doctor kept asking him if Nick had been bleeding, or running a fever, or having stomach pains, and all Harry could say was _I don't think so, I don't- I don't know, I'm not sure_ -

The night after they come home, everyone's bustling around the house with grim expressions, like someone's died. Nick's in bed, Sophie by his side. She hasn't left him since he got back from the hospital. Harry keeps trying to pull her out so she can get a bite to eat, but she won't bloody move.

"Go check on him, Harry, love," Jane says, blinking wearily as she kneads dough on a cutting board, a smudge of flour on one cheek. "Ask if he'd like anything to eat. Or if Sophie'd like to come down and have something."

Harry nods, slowly, and traipses up the stairs.

He knocks on the door. "Grim? It's me."

"Come in," Nick calls back, muffled, and Harry quietly steps inside. The room is dark and smells of candles. Nick is very pale, a blanket tugged up over his belly, dark circles under his eyes. Sophie's cuddled against his side, and there's a big picture book propped up on Nick's lap.

"Hi Haz," Nick says. His voice is small.

"Hi daddy," Sophie murmurs.

"Hey, loves," Harry says, trying not to cry just at the sight of him. No. Nick'll be fine. He's just - weak. He just needs to rest. Their baby's still alive in there, and Nick's alright, and everyone'll be fine if Nick just rests for a little while longer.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, reaches out to squeeze Sophie's foot, clad in soft fleecy socks. Sophie nuzzles into Nick's arm, lets out a sigh.

"Feeling any better?"

"A bit," Nick says, mouth twitching like he wants to smile but can't manage it. His eyelids are heavy, close to sleep.

"Jane wanted me to ask if you'd like something to eat."

Nick shakes his head, covering a yawn with one hand. "No, I'm alright. Thanks."

"What about you, Sophs?" Harry asks softly. "You want to come down for tea?"

"No," Sophie mumbles. "Want to stay with daddy."

Harry sighs. "Baby, you need to eat."

"No," Sophie says darkly.

"Soph," Nick murmurs. "Go and eat a bit of dinner and then you can come back and I'll read you another story. Alright?"

Sophie puts her face against Nick's shirt.

"I don't want you to go away again," she chokes, and Harry glances up at Nick, his chest squeezing.

"I won't," Nick whispers. "I promise. Staying right here."

She sniffles, but she doesn't fight it when Harry carefully scoops her up from the bed.

"Haz," Nick says, when Harry's halfway out the door. "Maybe a cup of tea if you don't mind. That lemon stuff."

"Yeah, love." Harry shuts the door quietly behind him and stumbles down the steps with Sophie clinging to his side.

He gets her set up with a plate of chicken and mash, puts the kettle on for Nick. He feels weary and dizzy, like he's in a warzone or summat, stumbling through and trying not to collapse. He can't stop thinking about what it felt like, to see Nick in that hospital bed, all covered in tubes and wires. Harry never even saw Nick giving birth to Sophie. He stumbled straight from Heathrow to the hospital to be greeted by a fully-formed, cleaned-off little infant and Nick sleeping peacefully, stitched up and knocked out with pain meds.

If anything happens, again. If Nick gets another infection, a worse one this time, and they don't realize until it's too late-

Harry clenches his jaw hard to stop himself from thinking it.

Nick needs to rest and stay well and they'll make it through and everything can just - just restart.  

Harry has to believe it.

He brings the tea upstairs. Nick's fallen asleep sitting up, head tipped back, and Harry sets the tea down on the nightstand, gently touches the rise of Nick's stomach.

"Love."

Nick's head falls sideways, and his eyelids flutter.

"Grim," Harry says, fear making his voice louder. "Wake up."

"Mmgh," Nick mutters. "What?"

"You'll hurt your back if you sleep like that," Harry says, squeezing Nick's shoulder gently. "You want some tea?"

Nick takes a slow sip, hands the mug back, and Harry helps get him down into bed, onto his side. Nick heaves a sigh when he's settled, fumbles for a pillow to clutch to his chest.

"Love you so much," Harry whispers, watching his eyes fall shut again, the lines by his eyes smoothing out as he relaxes.

"Love you," Nick murmurs back. "Sorry this is all a bit fucked."

Harry laughs, throat burning. God, he can't bear the idea of losing him. He can't fucking bear it.

He exhales hard. That's not going to happen.

"I'm - I'm gonna sleep in the guest room, alright? Dr. Sani said you shouldn't share your sleeping space right now."

Nick opens his eyes.

"She said that?"

"Yeah."

"But what about Sophie?" Nick swallows. "Can she sleep in here?"

"I dunno if it's, um - I mean, it's not a good idea, Grim. Just because of the germs and everything. Don't want to take any chances."

"Shit. Alright. Can you- can you bring her in here so I can say good night?" Nick says, pushing himself onto his elbow, coughing into his wrist.

Harry nods, throat tight, and slips out of the room.

Sophie crawls right into bed and puts her arms around Nick's neck. Harry watches her, tries not to think of all the bacteria she's got on her hands.

"Love you," Nick says, stroking her hair. "My girl. You're being very very brave, aren't you? I'm so proud of you. Being such a trooper."  

Sophie nods.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Soph."

"When's the baby going to come?"

Nick chokes out a laugh. "Good question."

"Whennn, daddy?"

"In a while, Sophie. Not for a while."

Sophie goes quiet. She's petting Nick's hair like he's Pig, and the sight makes Harry weak.

"You're not leaving again, are you?"

"I really hope not, love," Nick says, with another strained laugh.

"I want you to stay here with me forever."

"I will, Soph. And if I go back to hospital, you can come too, alright? I promise. Won't leave you."

Harry turns away, chokes into the crook of his elbow. God, he hates this.

"I'm sad," Sophie whispers.

"You don't have to be sad. Everything's going to be alright." Nick's voice is unsteady, and he coughs hard. "I promise you. It'll be alright."

"But you're poorly, daddy."

"I'm a bit poorly right now, I know. But I'll get better."

Harry turns back around, letting out a long breath.

"Just need you to keep being brave for me, okay?" Nick whispers, reaching up to tug at one of Sophie's curls. "You're such a good girl, Soph-a-doph. This'll all be over before you know it."

Sophie buries her face in Nick's chest, and Nick looks at Harry over her shoulder, smiles weakly. He raises an eyebrow, looks down at Sophie, and Harry shakes himself.

"Soph," he says. "C'mon, let's let your dad sleep now, alright? He's knackered."

"Daddy," Sophie whimpers against Nick's neck.

"Come on, little one." Harry peels her away from Nick, pulling her onto his hip, and she kicks him a few times, frustrated. Her eyes are red.  

"Say good night."

"No!"

"Say good _night_ , Sophie."

Sophie whines against Harry's shoulder, digging her foot into his stomach, and Harry sighs.

"It's alright," Nick says. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

Harry nods at him, quietly. Nick nods back, eyes dark, and they look at each other for a minute before Harry turns and gently shuts the door behind them.

\---

"Grim?" Harry looks up from the doorway, where he's helping Sophie get her shoes on. "You coming?"

"Think I'll hang back for a bit if it's alright."

"Alright." Harry pads over to press a kiss against Nick's mouth, leaning down over the sofa. "Ring if you need me, yeah?"

"I will."

"Love you," Harry says, kissing him again. He stares at Nick for a minute, and Nick laughs, pats Harry's cheek. Harry drops his eyes, looking sheepish.

"I'm fine, Haz. I love you too."

Daisy's at the doorway now, tying one of Sophie's shoelaces while Sophie balances on her shoulder and talks a mile a minute.

"Good night, Soph," he calls, and Sophie breaks away from Daisy and runs to him. Oh, Nick still bloody loves that feeling.

"Where're you going?" she asks, reaching up to hug him. Nick lifts her onto his knee, huffing with effort, and she slides her arms around his neck. 

"Staying here for a little bit. I'll be home soon, I promise."

Sophie sighs long-sufferingly. "Will you say good night when you're back?"

"Course I will, my love." He kisses her soft cheek. "Go on with daddy now. I'll see you in a little bit." 

"Let's roll, Soph," Harry yawns from the doorway, and Sophie reaches for Nick's hand and smacks a wet kiss to his knuckles before she slides off his lap.

Nick looks down at his hand, then up at her, already halfway out the door. "Weirdo," he breathes.

"Want a brew?" Ian calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Me too, please!" Daisy calls, sinking back onto the sofa next to Nick. "How're you feeling, babe?"

Nick shrugs. "Been better."

She sighs. "Bet you have."

Nick draws in a long breath. He knows what he's supposed to say next - _it'll be fine, we'll figure it out, it's just a pain, everything's going to be alright_.

He can't. Not around them. Not with Daisy stroking his shoulder, smelling of herbal perfume the way she has for years. He doesn't even know how to lie to them.

He just sniffs, looks up gratefully when Ian comes in with two steaming mugs of tea.

"Ginger for you," he says, handing it over to Nick. "Weird turmeric cinnamon shite for you, Daisy."

Daisy blows him a kiss and takes it.

"Okay!" Aimee stage-whispers, putting a finger over her mouth. "Alex is officially down for the count. Knock on wood. And don't talk too loud, he's right down the hall."

She wedges herself onto the chair next to Ian, and Ian puts his head on her shoulder.

They're quiet for a minute. Daisy's rubbing her fingers over Nick's scalp, careful but firm. It feels so good, like properly good. He hasn't felt good in ages. It's so sad Nick nearly lets out a bitter laugh.

"Why are we not talking," Aimee says eventually. "Seriously, this shit feels morbid."

"Thought it was peaceful, actually, but alright," Ian sighs.

Aimee growls at him, then kisses his forehead.

"Remember," Nick starts, and he has to draw in a deep breath. Daisy hums softly. "Remember when, like. Remember when you were all worried about me, Aims, when I was pregnant with Sophie, and you made Ian sleep in my bed?"

Ian snorts, and Aimee just smirks at him over his head.

"One of my better best-friend plans."

"Was more for Ian than me, anyway," Nick says, huffing a laugh. "He can't handle you being gone, Aims. He was a wreck."

"Oh, shut up."

Nick grins. "You could come over and snuggle again, Ian. You can be middle spoon. Harry wouldn't mind."

"I hate you."

Aimee's laughing into his hair. "God, I'd pay to see that."

"Middle spoon," Daisy giggles.

Nick blows Ian a kiss, and they lapse back into silence. Normally that'd be Nick's cue to entertain, to babble on about his life, but he can't work up the energy. It's actually quite boring, being sick. Nothing different happens. He wakes up, he eats, he lays around reading and listening his way through his Itunes library. He pretends he's alright when Sophie gets home from school, he eats dinner, and he falls asleep again.

Speaking of - his eyelids are drooping. He nestles back against Daisy's chest and she pats his belly gently.

"God, I'm knackered."

"Can sleep in the guest room if you like," Ian says, sipping his tea.

"It's alright." Nick heaves a sigh. "I should get home."

"How're things with Harry?" Daisy asks softly.

"Good. Fine." Nick sounds like a robot, he bloody knows. But he doesn't know what else to say. Sometimes at night he's convinced Harry's getting tired of him, tired of the whole drag of Nick being poorly and whiny and depressed. But then they'll spend an entire morning lying around in bed after Harry's brought Sophie to preschool, drinking tea, laughing, talking, and Nick knows Harry's not sick of him.

It's just frustrating. Nick can be himself for about two hours a day, and the rest feels - anemic. He hates it.

"You two seem alright," Aimee says, watching him steadily. "How's he been with the whole- everything? Like is he freaking out?"

Nick shrugs. "Good. He's good. _He's_ not the problem."

Aimee gives him a warning look. "Hey."

Nick sticks his tongue out, and then shuts his eyes.

"I'm just so tired," he mumbles. "Like all the time."

"Oh, babe," Daisy murmurs.

"You're so close," Aimee says quietly. "It'll be over, like - so soon."

"Plus a baby," Ian adds. "Like a bonus gift. No more sick, and a cuuute little baby."

"A cute little baby who shits and pukes and wees everywhere," Nick mutters. "Not gonna sleep a full night through for like two years."

Daisy sighs, and they all look up when Alex cries out from his room.

Nick holds his breath, but - nope. Alex sobs again, and then calls, "Mummy!"

Aimee drains her wine. "That's my cue."

Ian follows her down the hall, and Nick takes a gulp of tea and sets it down.

"S'pose I should get home. Maybe catch Soph before she goes to sleep."

Daisy presses a kiss to the top of his head. "G'night, babe."

"Night, Daize." Nick staggers to his feet, Daisy reaching out a hand to steady him. "I'll just go say g'night to Aimee and Ian."

Alex's room is dark, hushed, and something makes Nick stop before he steps into the doorway. He holds his breath, peeks inside.

"Aims," he hears Ian whisper, low. "Hey, hey. Hey, don't-"

Aimee makes a sound like a sob, and Nick's stomach goes cold. He can see them in the shadows, pressed together, Aimee's shock of blonde hair peeking over Ian's shoulder, her face hidden in his shirt.

"Don't- don't, Aimee, it's alright." Ian sounds scared. Nick knows the feeling. Aimee never cries. "Aimee-"

"Fuck," Aimee chokes against Ian's neck. "Shit."

"He's gonna be alright," Ian mumbles. "He'll be alright, I promise-"

Aimee just keens wordlessly, desperate and low. Nick can see her hands tighten on Ian's back, nails digging in, and all of a sudden he feels a hot wave of dizziness.

He takes a shaking step back and then another until he's schooling his face into indifference and padding back into the living room. He - can't. He just can't deal with that right now.

"Alright," he says numbly. "I should head out."

"Want a ride?" Daisy asks, setting her mug down.

"That'd be nice, Lowe, cheers."

\---

He's in the front seat of Daisy's car when his phone buzzes in his lap. It's Aimee, being all chipper. Liar.

_Soz you had to run out! Alex was being difficult ha. See you next week?? Xxxxo_

Nick props his hands on his belly to answer.

_Defo see u next week_

_Love you_

His breath goes heavy, strained, and he stares at the screen for a minute. Finally he types out-

_Im gonna be alright aims don't worry okay? Cant deal with it if you're worried too_

He swallows hard, watches the bubble pop up as Aimee types.

Daisy's pulling up in front of the house by the time Aimee texts back.

_I can't not worry idk. Just love you and really need you to be okay_

_I just really hate seeing you hurting. Im just freaked out. I'm sorry_

"Nick?" Daisy says hesitantly, and Nick tears his eyes away from the screen.

"Soz," he says absently. "Thanks for the ride, Daisy."

"Of course. Ring if you need anything, yeah?"

"I will."

He locks the door behind him and stumbles over to sit on the sofa, swiping his phone screen open.

_I'm freaked out too I fucking hate this_

He wipes a hand over his nose, twisting around to check Harry's not coming down the stairs.

_I know_ , Aimee sends back. _Me too. It's fucking shit._

_When Harry told us you were in the hospital neither of us could stop crying we just love you so much babe we really really love you_

_Fuck I hate this lol. Glad we didn't do this heart to heart in person_

Nick chokes a wet laugh.

_Yeah me too, bloody feelings. Gross._

_Love both of you too. So much. gonna go to bed now but we'll talk tomorrow Xxxxxxx_

He stares at his phone until it vibrates in his hands.

_Good night babe love you_

_Sleep well_

Nick wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper and makes his way upstairs.

\---

 

"Dad," Sophie says, about ten minutes into their three-hour journey up North. "I need to go potty."

Harry sighs. He'd only asked a thousand bloody times before they left. "Are you sure, Soph?"

"Yeah." Sophie kicks her legs in her carseat. "I reaaally need t'go, daddy. I need to."

"Alright, my love." Harry flicks the turn signal on, pulls in at a Starbucks. "We'll go in here, yeah?"

Sophie peers out the window. "Can I have a hot choccy?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "You already had tea, love. Right before we left."

Sophie scoffs. "Tea's different."

"Oh, it's different, is it." Harry shakes his head. "Sit tight, love, I'll come around."

He unbuckles the straps, lifts Sophie onto the pavement, and she immediately says, "Heyy, he's takin' a picture!"

Harry shuts the door and turns around, just in time for some bloke in an anorak to snap a photo of him from the table outside the Starbucks.

He waves, cos it's weirder if he _doesn't_ acknowledge it. "Hi, mate."

The guy looks away, face going red, and Harry grabs Sophie's hand. "Let's go fast, alright, love?"

"I want hot choccy with cream, please," Sophie says, as Harry drags her inside. All her wee-urgency seems to have disappeared, and she's dawdling happily, barely grasping Harry's fingers. "And a biscuit."

"That's too much sugar, darling." Harry scoops her up onto his hip as they enter the crowded shop. His life's mostly been better since he decided to stop traveling with security, but it's still a bit intimidating to step into a shop and know there's no easy way out if he gets mobbed. "You can pick one."

Sophie hums thoughtfully in his ear. "But daddy, biscuits have got to go in hot choccy. You've got to dip them."

"I'm pretty sure you can eat them separately."

"Noo, you can't. It's not allowed." She sounds very patient, like she's explaining a basic concept she's taught Harry several times before. "You've got to dip them."

"Well, love, I guess you'll have to get hot chocolate then. If you can't eat biscuits without dipping."

Sophie falters for a minute at Harry's superior logic, and then slumps onto his shoulder. "Fine."

"Oh, _fine_ , like you can't be bothered." Harry laughs, hoisting her higher on his hip. Out of the corner of his eye he sees another phone raised, and he averts his gaze, letting his face fall into neutral mode, just as someone steps in front of him.

"Hi," she says - mid-twenties, blonde hair, petite. "Sorry, like, so sorry if I'm, uh, interrupting, but like I'm _such_ a big fan. I'm such a big fan."

"Thank you," Harry says, glancing past her at the open register. The barista is tattooed and pierced and looks like he couldn't give less of a shit who Harry is. "I- sorry-"

"Do you mind, um, taking a photo? Like I've been a fan since One Direction, seriously, you were my favorite." She laughs, and waves at Sophie, pulls a face. Sophie just stares.

"I've got to go, actually," Harry says. "She needs a wee, and we're - we're next." He jerks his head at the counter. "If you don't mind-"

Her chin wobbles just a bit. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I was just asking for a-" 

"You didn't, it's fine. I just need to-"

"Daddy, actually I want biscuits," Sophie announces loudly into his ear. "I want the biscuits with the light chocolate on them-"

"Sir, can we keep the line moving?" the barista calls.

"That's me, I'm sorry," Harry says, side-stepping her and hurrying up to the counter. He's so flustered he gets Sophie hot chocolate and biscuits and forgets to order anything for himself. They book it out of there once she's had a wee, but Harry catches eyes with the blonde woman as he hurries out the door and she glares.

He buckles Sophie in, hands her her drink and opens her packet of biscuits.

"There you are, princess," he says. "No more stops til we get to Holmes Chapel, alright?"

"Alright!" she sings, crunching down on a biscuit, not even dipping it in her bloody chocolate. 

He has to take a couple breaths before he pulls away. It's harder when he's not with Nick. Nick's better at warding people off without sounding like a dick.

By the time he's pulling in at his mum and stepdad's he's yawning hard, the radio on loud to keep him awake. Sophie's singing along to a Disney CD, doing dramatic hand gestures. So far it seems like she's inherited Nick's inability to carry a tune and his flair for the dramatic. It's a bit more endearing on a four year old than it is when Harry's hungover and Nick won't stop belting off-key Rihanna.

Though if he's honest, they're both pretty endearing.

"Harry, love!" Anne calls, as Harry lifts Sophie out of her seat. "Thought you'd gotten lost!"

"Left a bit late, plus someone needed a Starbucks break," Harry says, huffing a laugh and reaching in for Sophie's bag. Sophie dashes away, up the steps, and Anne lifts her into her arms.

"I had biscuits, nana," Sophie's saying, when Harry makes it up the steps, bags over both shoulders. "And hot choccy."

"Did you?" Anne leans over to press a kiss to Harry's cheek. "Hi love."

"Hey, mum." Harry fumbles to lock the car with the keys and holds the door open for Anne and Sophie to step inside. "God, it's good to be here."

"Nick couldn't make it?"

"He's got some meeting tomorrow at the Beeb, I dunno." Sophie wriggles out of Anne's arms and takes off towards the telly. "Figured we'd just stay for a day, is that alright?"

"Course, my love. Robin's watching the match, c'mon in. I just put the kettle on."

"Thanks." Harry smiles, and lets it drop once Anne turns around. God, he knows she'll want to talk, and Harry- Harry wants to talk too. It's just that he's so tired, and there's nothing new to say. Nick's still sick, they're both still waiting, that's it.

Harry digs in his pocket for his phone and taps out a text.

_Hi love how are you feeling?? We just got in. Love you love you xxxx_

He hits Send and wanders into the living room, where Sophie's perched on Robin's knee, staring intently at the Arsenal-Sunderland match and picking at her toes.

"Harry, mate," Robin says, grinning up at him. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, you too." Harry sinks onto the sofa, and Sophie looks over at him, uninterested.

"Hi daddy."

"Hi, my love." Harry sighs, tips his head back.

"Tired, are ya? Where's Nick?"

"London." Harry yawns. "Had a work thing. Shit, I'm knackered. _Shoot_ , I mean."

"Daddy said a bad word," Sophie says, not taking her eyes off the telly.

"Sorry," Harry laughs. He pulls a pillow over his lap and yawns again, so hard his jaw cracks. "Long day."

"Kip a bit, lad." Robin tosses him a blanket. "The little one might join ya in a second."

"She's had about four tons of sugar, so she might be bouncing off the walls." Harry nestles into the cushions, eyes shutting, but they open again when Robin sets Sophie on his lap, a warm weight.

"Dunno about that," he says, huffing a fond laugh. "Think she's officially crashed."

Sophie's eyelids are drooping. She pouts, puts her arms around Harry's neck, and Harry feels a gut-clench of love for her, hot and fierce. God, Sophie's tired too. She might not get exactly what's going on, but she knows when her dad's not well. She can feel it, how much they're all floundering.

"I'll finish the match in the bedroom," Robin says gently. "You sleep."

"Thanks," Harry mumbles, stretching out on the sofa, letting Sophie snuggle against his chest.

"Harry?" he hears Anne says, and then, quieter, "Oh. Never mind, love."

"We're just gonna nap," Harry slurs out, half-gone. He pets Sophie's tangled curls and she sighs into his shirt. "Just a few minutes."

He hears her footsteps, soft out of the room, and sinks into sleep.

\---

When he wakes up next, early morning sun's coming through the blinds, and Sophie's nowhere to be found. He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes.

His mum's at the kitchen table, hands cupped around a steaming mug of tea. She looks up when Harry pads in, blinking heavy.

"Morning, love. You needed that, didn't you?"

"Where's Soph?" Harry mutters, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Upstairs in bed. We had a nice chat last night. Told me all about preschool. Think she went down around half eight."

Harry nods, grabbing the sugar.

"Now I'd like a chat with my other baby," she says, breathing out a laugh. "My big baby."

"Not a baby," Harry mumbles, though he feels quite a bit like a baby right then, all sleepy and whingey. He slides into a chair, yawns deep before he takes a sip of tea.

Anne just watches him. Harry's more teenager than baby, cos he avoids her gaze and grabs for his phone.

Nick texted him the night before, just- _Glad you're in safe im fine everything's good! Ly xx Give Soph good night kiss for me_

"Harry?"

"Just a second. It's Nick."

_Fell asleep on sofa for 12 hours ha. Hope the meeting goes well. We'll be home round five Xxxx_

He clicks Send and takes a gulp of tea.

"How're things going?" Anne asks quietly.

Harry shrugs.

"The same."

"How's he feeling?"

"The same, mum." Harry stares into his tea, trying not let his voice go sharp. "He's just resting."

"How's he _feeling_ feeling? Keeping his chin up?"

"Don't bloody know," Harry mutters.

Anne's brows knit together in the middle. "Hmm?"

Harry looks down into his tea again. "Nothing, mum. Never mind. Can we just- not talk about it? Tell me, like. How was that thing you went to, last week, with Denise? I saw the photos, it looked fun." 

Anne sighs like she knows exactly what Harry's doing, but she doesn't push.

\---

"Well, hello, Nick," Dr. Sani says, looking up from her clipboard. "You're not due in for another week, you know-"

"I know." Nick eases himself down into a chair. "I- I hoped you had a minute to talk."

Dr. Sani raises an eyebrow. "Let me look at my schedule. You didn't ring me, did you?"

"No, no. Sorry. I should've, I just-"

"It's alright." She turns to her computer, and Nick looks down, brushes a piece of fluff off his belly. He digs out his phone.

Harry's texted - _all good? We just finished lunch we'll head home in an hour or two. Love you x_

Nick stares at it, and then turns his phone over when Dr. Sani looks up.

"I don't have an appointment til two," she says. "I can fit you in."

"Cheers," Nick exhales.

"What's on your mind, Nick? Is Harry coming and or is it just you today?"

Nick swallows, tucking his phone under his thigh. "Uh, Harry's gone up north to see his mum. Took Sophie with him."

"Oh, alright."

"He doesn't know I'm here." Nick looks up, huffs a laugh. "Thinks I'm at a work meeting. He'd want to- to be here if he knew I were here."

Dr. Sani tilts her head.

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Nick?"

Nick nods, trying to keep his knee from jiggling. "Yeah. I just- I needed, I needed to talk to you without, like-"

He stops.

"I need to talk to you about worst case scenarios," he says, voice going small. He coughs.

Dr. Sani's eyes narrow, and she leans forward. "What do you mean by that?"

"I- I feel like I can't- talk about it when Harry's -" Nick stops, throat clenching. He coughs again. "I need- I need to know what might happen. To me. If - if something goes wrong again, another infection."

He looks at his phone, like a tic. No messages.

"You need to know what might happen," Dr. Sani repeats, slowly.

"If I get sick again," Nick says, voice rough. "I don't- I don't feel like I even know what could happen. Like I'm just doing all this and I could fuck something up without knowing."

Dr. Sani sighs quietly.

"Just tell me if it could be - y'know. If I could-" Nick stops, scared, fiddling with the hem of his jumper. "You know what I'm asking."

Dr. Sani puts her clipboard down.

"You're asking if there's a serious risk to your life," she says softly. "Is that it?"

Nick can't breathe for a second. He makes himself nod.

"You haven't told Harry about what you're thinking?"

Nick drops his head.

"If I try he says there's no- he says I'm being silly." He looks up. "Am I being silly?"

"I'm never going to tell an expecting parent that they're being silly," Dr. Sani says.

"So it's _not_ silly."

"Listen, Nick. Every pregnancy carries the possibility of complications. You've experienced some of those complications. I know that's been extremely stressful."

"Don't- don't sugarcoat it, alright?" Nick snaps. "I need to know. I just - if it's- if it's a possibility I need to start, like. Getting my things in order."

It's such a strange, unfamiliar phrase. It sounds clunky coming out of Nick's mouth.

He swallows hard.

"Nick," Dr. Sani says, quietly. "I understand why you're concerned."

"Please," Nick breathes. "Please, Dr. Sani. Just tell me."

She rubs her hand over her forehead. Sighs.

"For whatever reason, Nick, you've been extremely susceptible to infection throughout this pregnancy. If you pick up another infection within the next month, it would become necessary to induce labor so there's not permanent damage. And there's a chance that the fetus wouldn't survive such an early delivery."

Nick's stomach clenches, like she can feel it.

"If the next month goes well," Dr. Sani says, slowly. "Things get quite a bit more optimistic."

"What about- what about for me?"

"An infection as bad as the last one you came in with carries a possibility of fatality, especially if we're unable to deliver," Dr. Sani says, voice even. "I'm not going to tell you there are no risks. But I'm moving forward with the expectation that you and your daughter are going to come away from this safely and healthily."

Nick stares at her.

"You're good at bullshitting."

"I'm not bull- I'm not lying to you, Nick."

"She feels like a ticking fucking timebomb," Nick says, voice harsh. "Like I'm sick. Really really ill. And Harry's being so- so, like, careful, like I'm on my deathbed, and I don't know what- what's gonna happen, I'm so-"

His voice wobbles, and Dr. Sani slides the tissues across the table to him.

He takes one, blows his nose.

"Sorry."

"It's alright, Nick."

"I wish it hadn't happened," Nick chokes out. "I wish this hadn't happened. I don't _want_ her. That's the bit I can't tell Harry, he'd- he'd hate me."

He sobs against the tissue, scrubs his eyes furiously with his other hand.

"It's alright," Dr. Sani repeats. "Regret is very, very common, Nick. A lot of my patients say that. Or they think it, but they won't admit it. It doesn't mean you're a bad parent. It doesn't mean you won't love her when she's here."

Nick nods, not looking at her.

"We're going to do everything we can to make sure you're safe," Dr. Sani says quietly.  

"I know," Nick mumbles. "Sorry, sorry-"

"You know, you're dealing with the normal emotional stresses of a pregnancy, compounded by some serious health concerns, that's difficult."

Nick nods some more. He wishes Harry were there. It was stupid, to do this without him.

"It might help," Dr. Sani says, carefully, like she can read his mind. "To talk to your husband about what you're feeling."

Nick sniffles. "Yeah."

"It's not easy to go through this alone," Dr. Sani says, eyes steady. "You need to use your resources and your support systems. You need them right now. That's life, Nick. Sometimes you need a bit more help than other times."

Nick nods, fumbling for another tissue.

Dr. Sani pats his knee, awkwardly, and then coughs and consults her computer screen. "Ah, I think my 2:00 PM just arrived."

"I'll get out of your way," Nick says, sniffling, trying to smile. "See you next week."

"Talk to Harry," she says, quietly.

"I will."

"We'll speak soon, Nick."

\---

Harry hands the cabbie two twenty-pound notes and climbs out of the backseat, shivering in the early September chill. They're sliding firmly into autumn now, at least in the evenings.

He stumbles up the steps to the house, fumbling tipsily for his key. He was out for Ed's birthday and had a few more beers than he meant to. They're off to another pub now, the night still young, but Harry begged off.

Nick's low voice is drifting down the hall as Harry unlocks the door and shuts it gently behind him. It's followed by Sophie's warm burble, the words unintelligible from a distance, and Harry grins, kicking his shoes off. Good, she's still up.

He tiptoes down the hallway, peeks in until he can see the both of them, cuddled on the sofa. Sophie has an arm around Nick's belly, cheek pressed to the slope of it. Harry smiles so hard his eyes go watery.

"- perfectly fine," Nick's in the middle of saying. He draws his hand slowly through Sophie's hair. "I promise, love."

"I don't want you to leave, daddy."

"I know." Nick runs his thumb over her eyebrow. "I know. I'm never leaving you. You know that."

"But does your tummy hurt?" Sophie glares at it, like she can fix Nick by force of will. Harry tips his head against the wall, feeling suddenly exhausted, weak-kneed. She's so much smarter than they can handle, sometime. She understands too much.

"Only a tiny bit," Nick says softly. "Just a bit of a tummyache. It'll be all better when your sister comes."

"Why's she hurting you, daddy?" Sophie's voice wobbles.

"Ohh, Soph. She's not. It's not her fault."

"I don't want your tummy to hurt," Sophie mumbles, wriggling herself closer to Nick's side.

"Me neither." Nick strokes her hair again. "Me neither, darling. It's not very fun, is it?"

"It's not fair." Sophie sniffs in a breath.

"I know it's not," Nick says, sounding very tired, and they both look up when Harry steps into the room.

"Hi, my loves," he says, trying not to sound hoarse. His chest aches.

"Hi daddy!"

"Hiya, Haz. How's Ed?"

"Good, he's good." Harry sinks onto the sofa next to them, pulls Sophie onto his lap as she wriggles and laughs. She squeals when Harry lifts her shirt to blow a raspberry on her belly. "Oh, I missed you, princess. How was your night?"

"Dad and I had pizza for tea," she says confidingly, reaching up to play with Harry's hair. "We had pizzas on pitas. With mushrooms. And a salad. And then we got to have hot choccy!"

"Oh, that's wicked." Harry kisses her cheek. "That sounds so fun. Your dad's the best ever, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"He's my very favorite person."

Sophie smiles til her eyes scrunch. "He's my favorite too."

Nick just huffs a laugh, sitting back on the sofa. "Very flattering, the pair of you."

Harry tips his head against Nick's shoulder, exhales, and Nick pulls a face.

"Oh hello, beer breath. You smell like Ireland."

"Niall was there, he might've rubbed off on me," Harry says, breathing a laugh.

"Uncle Niall got me a chocolate pony," Sophie says sleepily.

"He did, I know," Harry laughs. That was Christmas last year. A bloody horse made of chocolate. It wasn't life-size, thank God, but it wasn't small either.

"Mmm." Sophie licks her lips. "I like chocolate."

"We know, Soph," Nick says fondly. "We are very aware of that fact."

Harry snorts, pressing his nose into Sophie's hair. She smells of apple shampoo and a bit like spilled hot chocolate, sweet and sticky.

"Soph," he says, his heart feeling too big for his chest. She's just so good, is the thing. Harry can't describe it. He's just so glad she's there. He can't imagine doing all this without her. "Shall we go to bed?"

\---

Nick rolls over in bed, groans to himself. It's been an eternal fucking day that started at half-two in the morning with Sophie crawling into bed sniffling from a nightmare and ended at the doctor's with a bunch of tests that left Nick sore and eggy and still fucking sick. Sophie didn't want her dinner, the sun never came out, Pig took a wee in Nick's favorite pair of boots. A shit day all around.

"Harry?" he calls, trying not to whine. Sometimes he can _really_ hear how similar he and Sophie sound. "Come to bed!"

No answer.

Nick pulls himself upright, tugging down his shirt, and makes his way out of the bedroom.

Harry's not in the studio, or the living room. Nick sees a light filtering from Sophie's bedroom, and he sighs. Of course.

He cracks the door open, peeks inside. Harry and Sophie are sitting cross-legged across from each other on the bed, Sophie's bedside lamp casting a warm glow over them both. Sophie's in a giant old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, big enough to go over her knees and puddle on the duvet.

"And then it was fun when we went to the store," Sophie's saying, but she looks up when the door creaks. "Daddy!"

"Hi, love," Nick says. "Goin' to bed soon?"

"Just finishing up." Harry smiles at him, tucking his hair behind his ears. "You alright?"

"Tired."

"Just be a minute, I swear."

"Daddy, come say thank-you too," Sophie says, patting the bed next to her, eyes bright.

Nick stifles an impatient sigh, and goes to sit down at the edge of the bed. He usually isn't bothered with all this, the stuff Harry likes to do. Daily affirmations, giving thanks. It's all a bit crunchy. Nick's not gonna _protest_ , but that doesn't mean he has to participate.

"Alright, Sophs," Harry says softly. "What're you thankful for today?"

Sophie chews her lip, rocking back and forth. She's so sweet Nick has to kiss her, and he does, on her cheek and nose, til she's giggling. He sits back up, sucks in a pained breath at the shift in position.

"Alright?"

Nick nods.

"Soph?"

"Ummm… You go first, daddy."

Harry huffs a laugh. "Alright. Today I'm thankful that- that it didn't rain. Too much. And I'm thankful your dad's appointment went alright. _And_ that we had ice cream after dinner."

"Frozen yogurt," Nick says. "I refuse to call that ice cream."

Harry snorts. "Yeah, yeah, alright. You thought about it, Sophs?"

"I'm thankful for the ice cream," Sophie says, copying her dad, chewing her lip. "And I'm thankful for my little baby sister who's gonna come soon…"

Nick catches Harry's eye. Harry smiles, all watery.

"I'm thankful for my daddy being home and not being too hot," Sophie finishes.

Harry's brow furrows. "Hot?"

Sophie reaches up and feels Nick's forehead. "Not too hot. You were hot."

Nick catches her hand in his, bites one of her fingers. "Not too hot today, nope, love. I'm alright. I'm coooool."  

"So Nick," Harry says, quietly, as Nick keeps nibbling on Sophie's fingers. "What're you thankful for?"

"Yeah, daddy, what're you thankful for," Sophie giggles, mashing a finger into Nick's nostril. Nick sputters and yanks her hand down by the wrist.

"I'm thankful for no fingers up my nose, thanks," he says dryly.

"Daddy," Sophie laughs. "C'monnnn."

"Alright, alright. Thankful for you, because you're very cute. Thankful for Harry Styles, also very cute."

Harry scoffs.

"Who's Hairy Style?" Sophie asks with her nose wrinkled, and Nick chokes out a laugh.

"That's your dad, silly goose. Him over there. The dimply pretty one."

Harry's dimples are out in full force, his cheeks pink as he ducks his head sheepishly. So easy for a compliment.  

"Harry…" Sophie says slowly, eyes wide like she's had an epiphany.

"Never mind, darling. You can just call him daddy."

"No, no, it's alright, we can-" Harry's rolling his eyes. "Give her a _bit_ of credit, Nick. Soph, Harry is my name, like Sophie is your name. And daddy's name is Nick."

"Your name's daddy."

"No, that's just what you call us. But we have names just like you do."

Sophie looks distressed.

"But you're daddy," she says unhappily. "And you're daddy."

"Yes, we are, love," Nick says smoothly, reaching over to pinch Harry's thigh. "We're daddy and you're Sophie."

"We're daddy," Harry murmurs. "A collective daddy."

"I still maintain we could've taught her to call us Beyoncé and Jay-Z," Nick says back, under his breath.

Harry just sticks his tongue out.

"Alright, love, I'm knackered." Nick rubs a hand over his face, yawning. Sophie echoes it, yawning so wide Nick can see the pink back of her tongue. "Bedtime."

Harry crawls forward to give Sophie a kiss, ruffles her hair. Nick leans over as best he can to do the same, stomach giving a sharp throb at the effort.

"Love you very much, Sophie Anne," he says against her hair. She smells of shampoo and the lavender lotion Harry puts on her elbows and knees before bed.

"Love you, Soph," Harry murmurs.

"Love you, daddy," Sophie says sleepily, wriggling down into bed. Nick palms over her soft forehead, reaches over to turn out the light.

Back in their own bed, Nick settles in while Harry washes up. He's scrolling sleepily through Instagram when Harry wanders out of the toilet, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

"Hey," he says, muffled.

"Hmm?"

"So for the nursery, I was thinking we could get Sophie to paint one of the walls." Harry ducks back into the toilet and Nick hears him spit. His head pops back out. "I mean, we could help her, but. I think it'd be - nice, you know, like she's contributing."

"God, she'd love that."

Harry grins, reaching up to pull his hair out of its bun. His t-shirt rides up over his soft hips, laurels flashing, and Nick abruptly loves him very, very much. He doesn't know how to just up and say that, though, so he lifts his phone and snaps a photo.

"What're you doing?" Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair.

"Nothing," Nick says absently, taking another photo. "You're just fit."

Harry rolls his eyes and knees his way onto the bed, leans in to press a warm kiss against Nick's cheekbone.

"G'night," he says, flopping down into bed with a sigh.

Nick flicks the lamp off and slides into bed.

His stomach keeps him up for a while, the way it always does now. He listens to Harry sleep, the soft rhythm of his breath. Eventually he opens up Insta and picks the second photo he took, Harry laughing, tugging his shirt down, hair falling against his shoulders.

Nick looks at it for a while, and then types-

_Hate cheesy affirmations but bloody hell am i grateful for this person. Tonight and every night_

He adds three pink hearts and hits Share. Something about it settles him, and he shifts in bed towards Harry, wriggles until he's comfortable.

"Good night," he whispers.

"Mm, night," Harry mumbles out. Nick sighs, and sleeps.

\---

When it happens, it's not as dramatic as Harry thought it'd be. They're sleeping next to each other, Harry only half-dozing, listening to Nick's labored breaths, rough and uneven. Nick's told him that it feels like she's kicking, except it hurts, and it's constant. Like he's hungry all the time, stomach rumbling, unsteady and restless.

Harry rolls from his back to his side, digs his face into the pillow and lets out a strained breath.

"Fuck," he hears Nick mutter, and he rolls back over.

"Everything alright?"

"I'm not sure," Nick says shakily.

Harry pushes himself up on his elbow. He's been asking that every night for the past two weeks, and every time Nick just chirps that he's fine and tells Harry to go back to sleep.

"What's wrong? Is it really - hurting, or-"

Nick gasps out a breath, and Harry watches as he reaches down to touch between his legs. "I, um. It's probably fine, it's just. It's the same stuff except - except faster than usual, and - and intense, I dunno."

His voice cracks. "Just - just really hurts. Like stabbing, I dunno. Shit."

"Shit," Harry echoes, reaching over to turn the lamp on. "Alright. Do you- should we go into the hospital?"

"I don't _know_ ," Nick says roughly. He brings his hand back up, and Harry's heart shudders, stops when he sees that it's wet with dark blood. "Oh. Shit."

"Fuck," Harry mutters. "Fuck. We're going in."

"No, I don't think it's-"

"Nick, we're going in. They said if you bleed, we have to go in." Harry rolls out of bed, pulse thudding in his wrist.

"Haz, honestly, it's just a- little bit. It's just spotting." Nick sounds unsteady, and Harry wrestles a t-shirt over his head, looks over to see Nick fumbling desperately for the box of tissues, his hands smeared in red.

"That's not bloody _spotting_!" Harry chokes out.

Nick sucks in a strangled breath, scrubbing his palms on a wad of tissues. "O-okay."

"That's not just fucking spotting-"

" _Okay_ ," Nick repeats weakly. "Christ that hurts. Let's go in."

Harry shoves his feet into his shoes, grabbing for his phone. "I'll- I'll call Gem to get - to get Sophie."

"I want her to come with us," Nick says, still sitting at the edge of the bed, a hand pressed to his stomach. His eyes are dark, red-rimmed. "Haz, please, I promised her I wouldn't - I wouldn't leave - _oh_ fucking God, oww, god." He sobs, sudden and harsh, hunching over his lap.

"C'mon, she can't see you like this, she'll freak out," Harry says shakily, zipping his jeans. "Can I- can I help you get a shirt on, Nick, we should probably-"

"I can do it," Nick says thickly. When he stands he lets out a gasp, sits down again. "Fuck. No I can't. Soz."

Harry grabs a t-shirt out of the drawer, carefully pulls it over Nick's head, tugging it down over the heavy tight swell of his belly. Nick grabs his wrists, squeezes hard.

He looks at Harry with his eyes wide, face pale.

"I love you," he says, voice wobbly. "I love you. I'm sorry."

"Don't - don't say you're sorry, it's not your fault," Harry says fiercely. "It's all gonna be fine."

"I'm so bloody scared." Nick smiles, a shaky anxious smile, like a reflex he can't shake, to grin even when it hurts.

Harry leans forward to kiss his mouth, salty with tears. He presses his lips to Nick's forehead, and the mark on his right cheek, and then leans back to help him up.

They stagger down to the car, Nick leaning heavily on Harry's shoulder, breathing hard. Harry fumbles his phone to his ear with the other hand, rings Gemma three times - no answer - and then Aimee.

"Hello?"

"Aimee," Harry gasps, unlocking the car door. Nick pulls himself into the front seat, eyes glazed with pain. There's blood drying on his hands. Christ. This is it. "We're going - we're going to the hospital, cos Nick's bleeding, and - and having contractions. I need- shit, I need you to get Sophie, please, she's sleeping. Please, Aims."

"Oh god," Aimee says, still sounding half-asleep. "Wait- what? Where's Sophie-"

"She's sleeping." Harry rubs his hand over his eyes, starts the car. Nick's breathing hard next to him. "She's in - in bed, but we have to go, Nick's- Nick's really not feeling good. Please come over and - get her, please, the spare key's in the safe, it's - it's 2202. Please, she'll freak out if she wakes up alone."

"Okay," Aimee says, gasping out a breath. "Okay, I'll- you're going to Portland?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be over as fast as I can. Ten- ten minutes. Ian, wake the fuck up!"

"Thanks." Harry reverses so fast down the driveway the tires screech. "I have to call Dr. Sani, I'll - just text me, okay?"

"Do you want us to just - stay with Sophie, or bring her to the hospital?"

Fuck. Harry doesn't know. He really doesn't. He chokes out a loud breath, and Nick says suddenly, "Tell Aimee to bring her."

Harry looks over at him. Nick's clutching an arm over his belly and looking pale.

"You sure?"

"Yes," Nick says, looking over at Harry without moving his head, eyes wide. "Please, Haz. Want her to be there. I promised."

"Is that Nick?" Aimee says in his ear. "Can I talk to him?"

Harry hands Nick the phone, and Nick takes it with shaky fingers.

"Yeah?" he says, voice small.

Harry speeds through a yellow light.

"Yeah," Nick repeats. "I- I know. It's, uh, it's not great."

He breathes out an anxious laugh.

"Yeah, Aims. I. Yeah. I love you too. Please, um, bring Sophs to the- yeah. I love you. Stop saying that, I haven't died." He sniffs in hard, scrubs his nose with one hand. "See you soon. Yeah. Thank you. I promise."

He hangs up, and drops the phone into the center console.

"Hanging on, love?" Harry asks, low, picking it up to dial Dr. Sani.

Nick looks at him again.

"Aimee brought me, when I went into labor with Soph," he says, looking dazed. "Remember? You'd just left for LA."

"Yeah, I remember," Harry says, forcing his voice soft and soothing.

"It didn't hurt anything like this," Nick whispers. "This is like next level."

Harry's chest clenches. "We're- we're gonna get there."

"I just need her to be alright," Nick mumbles. "It's too early, Haz, she's not supposed to be- she has to be alright."

"She will be. She will."

Nick stares at him. Harry's eyes are on the road but he can feel Nick's gaze like a weight.

"If something happens to me," Nick starts, his voice low.

"Don't," Harry snaps. "Nothing's gonna happen to you. Don't - don't fucking say that."

Nick soldiers on, voice shaky. "There's a will, Harry, I- I drew up a new will last week, and- and there're things for Sophie, on my laptop, you need to show her-"

" _Stop_ ," Harry chokes out, pressing harder down on the accelerator. "Stop. Nothing is going to happen to you. We're gonna be fine."

Nick swallows hard.

"This'll teach you to pull out, Styles," he says, before he breaks into an awful choky laugh, and Harry looks at him in utter disbelief for a moment before he lets out a wet snort.

"God," he says. "I fucking love you so much."

Nick smiles, a wry curve of his mouth, and then shuts his eyes.

\---

"What needs to happen, Mr. Styles, is that we need to perform a C-section," the doctor says, calmly, her face damp with sweat. As soon as they got to the hospital they took Nick away into a room and Harry hasn't seen him since. It's been nearly an hour, and now they're saying he needs a bloody - Harry shakes himself, runs a trembling hand through his hair. He shoots a glance back at where Sophie's dozing off on Aimee's lap.

"But Nick- but we didn't, we didn't plan on that-"

"I know that, and I respect your plan, but I also want to keep your husband as safe as I can. Alright? I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't truly believe that a Caesarean is the best option for him and for the baby right now."

Harry's eyes are burning. He scrubs his palms over them. "Is he - is he going to be alright?"

"The faster we get him into surgery, the higher the chances are that both he and your daughter will be alright."

"And if you- induced labor, or whatever, like you said last time we- we came in-"

"Nick's in no state to deliver a child on his own right now. I'm sorry to have to tell you that, but the physical stress that labor would put on him would be extremely dangerous."

Harry can't stop bloody crying. He gulps in a breath, swipes at his cheeks again.

"What I want to do," the doctor says, softly. "Is to get your husband and your daughter home safe as soon as I can. What that means is that she needs to be born as soon as possible. Every minute that she's still in the womb is a minute that could bring us closer to a very serious infection."

Harry wants his mum. He wants his mum and he wants to be held, and he wants someone else to decide what to do. He can't do this. He can't. He's twenty-fucking-seven, for fuck's sake. He doesn't know what-

"Mr. Styles."

"Okay," Harry says, voice shaking. "Okay. Please- please be careful, please."

"Nick just needs you to be there for him right now," she says, giving him a strained smile. "He's gonna need a lot of love and support in the next few hours. We're going to do our very best to make sure your family is safe."

Harry nods, thumbing tears off his chin, and follows her down the hall.

\---

Harry's watching his husband through glass. Nick's lying prone in the hospital bed, his body blurry in Harry's distorted vision, cos he still can't stop crying. Their baby's been born - whisked away to the NICU without Harry seeing her - but Nick still hasn't woken up.

Someone touches his shoulder from behind. The nurse.

"Can I go in yet?" Harry manages to say, voice hoarse. The other nurse said soon. She said Harry could see him soon.

"Not at the moment, Mr. Styles," she says quietly. "He's still on a heavy dose of antibiotics, and his immune system's pretty fragile at the minute."

Harry nods. That seems apt. Nick's never fragile - always loud, laughing. But right now that's exactly how he looks.

Fragile.

Harry clenches against a fresh wave of tears, rubs furiously at his eyes.

"You should be able to see your daughter very soon, Mr. Styles," the nurse murmurs.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I can come fetch you if you like. Would you like to stay here?"

Harry nods, turning back to Nick.

"Alright. I'll let you know. D'you need a cup of coffee? Water?"

"No," Harry chokes. "Thanks."

She touches his shoulder, and leaves him alone. The hallway's hushed but fluorescent-bright. Harry feels dizzy, and he puts a hand on the window to steady himself.

_Move_ , he thinks. _Wake up. Wave to me_.

Nothing. Harry slowly tips his forehead against the glass and waits.

\---

She's very small. She's bloody _tiny_ , all pink-skinned and delicate with dark eyes. Harry falls in love with her so fast it almost hurts, a hook in his gut as he stares down at her wrinkled face.

"She's already putting on weight," the nurse says quietly. "Doing very well. I'd anticipate that you'd be able to take her home in a week or so."  

Harry nods, speechless.

"She's a very lucky little girl."

"Yeah," Harry chokes out. "She's so beautiful."

The nurse sounds warm, and Harry can feel her watching him. "She sure is."

"Can I, um, my daughter, can I b-bring her in to meet her," Harry says, voice shaking. "She's four, is that- alright?"

"Of course you can, Mr. Styles."

Harry nods, but he can't turn around. He can't take his eyes off his baby. Her fists are tiny and curled and she's wrapped in a plush blue blanket and Harry just wants Nick to meet her. He wants Nick to see how it's all been worth it.

Fuck. Fuck. Harry wipes at his leaking eyes, smiles weakly at the nurse.

"Sorry, just. Hard to leave her."

"Do you want me to fetch your daughter, Mr. Styles?"

"God, please, that'd- that'd be really. Yes. Please. She's in the waiting room with her aunt Gemma. Her name's Sophie."

"I'll get her."

She bustles out of the room, and Harry looks back down into the crib - or whatever it is. Stares at his daughter. She's so so small. It's hard to imagine her being - as big as Sophie. As big as Harry, someday. A real person.

He feels a brush against his hand and looks down to see Sophie, her hand in the nurse's, looking up at Harry.

"Hi, darling," Harry says, sniffing in hard.

Sophie wraps an arm around his legs, and Harry reaches down to scoop her up onto his hip.

"You see that?" he whispers, pointing down into the bed. "That's your sister."

Sophie tips her head against Harry's neck, doesn't say anything.

"She's really little," Harry says, voice breaking. "But she's going to get bigger. She's going to get as big as you are."  

He shifts Sophie on his hip, and Sophie leans close to him and whispers, "Where's daddy?"

Harry tries to breathe. "He's- he's sleeping, Soph."

"I want to see him."

"You - you can't right now, Sophie. He's really really tired. Soon."

"I want daddy," Sophie says thickly into Harry's neck, and then Harry feels her whimper out a sob. Oh, god, he should've expected that, probably. It's been a fucking long day.

"Shh, sh," Harry mutters. "Shh, you'll see him soon."

"I want him _now_ , I want daddy-"

"Shh," Harry breathes, shooting an apologetic look at the nurse, who looks damp-eyed. "Shh."

He turns away from the baby, nudges open the door and sinks into a chair in the hall, letting Sophie rest on his lap.

Sophie keeps crying, tetchy and tired and scared. Harry wipes her eyes, rubs her warm back as she nestles into him.

For a split second he lets the fear enter him, swallow him up. That Nick won't get better. That he'll die, right here, in this hospital, and leave Harry alone with a four year old and a newborn. Harry can't do it. He can't do it without Nick. He'll fucking break.

He lets out a shuddering breath, tugs Sophie close to him.

"Daddy," Sophie whimpers into Harry's shirt, and Harry nods, slow, strokes her hair when she dissolves into tears again. He feels numb. His hands are tingling.

"Harry?"

He looks down the hall, eyes blurry with tears. It's Aimee, her eyes wide, and Harry's stomach drops.

No, _fuck_ , he's not ready. He's not ready to hear it.

"What?" Harry says, barely audible. Sophie's quivering in his arms.

"He's - he's awake," Aimee stammers. "Nick's awake."

Harry squeezes Sophie so tight she whimpers in surprised pain.

He lets her go, hands shaking, pets guiltily at her hair. "What?"

"He's awake," Aimee chokes out. "Out of it, but awake. He's- he's gonna be okay, Harry. He's gonna be okay."

Harry puts Sophie's arms around his neck and takes off down the hall.

 

\---

 

Harry scrapes his chair as close to the hospital bed as he can, watches Nick hold their daughter. She's dwarfed in his arms, tiny and pink. 

Nick's breathing slow and deep, eyes far-off, fixed on her.

Harry slides his hand onto Nick's thigh, very gentle. Sophie wanted to come in, but Harry didn't want her to until he made sure Nick was alright. So far Nick hasn't said a word and he keeps blinking like a zombie, so Harry's still not sure.

"Alright, love?"

"You nearly killed me," Nick whispers, to the bundle in his arms.

Harry chokes out a laugh, scraping a shaking hand through his hair, tacky with grease.

When he looks up next, Nick's crying silently, his mouth quivering and tear tracks down his cheeks. Harry doesn't know what to say. It's like Nick goes somewhere else, sometimes, with his children. They're carved out of him. Harry’s terrified of it and he envies it at the same time.

"Love you," Nick breathes. He looks up at Harry, blinking. "Love you."

Harry wipes his nose. "Love- love you too."

"You were scared, huh." Nick looks back down. "How- how close was it? I mean. For me or for her."

Harry's throat is burning.

"Pretty fucking close," he says, voice coming out strangled. "For both of you. You- you more than her, Nick. With the- the infection and all."

"Sorry," Nick says. "That was shit of me. Get you all worked up and then come back from the dead, like, hiyaaa."

"Idiot," Harry chokes. "Better be glad you came back or I'd kill you myself."

Nick lets out a croaky laugh, eyes falling to the baby in his arms.

"She's really bloody perfect, isn't she?" he asks, blinking up at Harry.

Harry nods, throat too tight to say anything.

"So little," Nick murmurs. "God. Sorry you had to come out so early, little one. Didn't mean to spit you out this soon."

"Glad you did," Harry says hoarsely.  

Nick huffs a laugh. "Yeah, me too. We had a rough time together, didn't we, love?"

The baby blinks.

“I’m so sorry,” Nick whispers. “For not wanting you. I’m so sorry, love.”

Harry’s breath catches, and he looks away, just as the door opens. 

"Mr. Grimshaw, Mr. Styles," a nurse says. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's time for her feeding." 

Nick goes wide-eyed. "Can I- can I do it?" 

"We can try the next feeding, Mr. Grimshaw," the nurse murmurs, gently scooping the baby out of his arms. "But you need more time post-op before nursing can begin." 

Harry reaches out for Nick's hand, fisted in the blankets. "Alright. Thank you." 

"Thanks," Nick says hollowly, and the door shuts behind them. It's horribly quiet for a minute.

"Hey, I'll fetch Sophie," Harry says, to fill the silence. "She's with Aimee outside."

"Yes, please," Nick says, face lighting up, and Harry pushes himself out of his chair and shoves the door open.

\---

"Be careful, Soph, your dad's really tired," Harry says, as Sophie skips down the hall, tugging at Harry's arm. "Don't jump on him, alright?"

"I won't," Sophie says innocently. Harry doesn't believe it, but he'll hold her back if he needs to.

"And just be nice and quiet, because he's had a really tough time and he's poorly. Do you promise?"

"Mm-hmm." Sophie beams up at him.

Harry opens the door slowly. Sophie takes two steps inside, looks up to see Nick, and bursts into tears.

Nick's eyes go wide. "Soph?"

Harry's still holding her hand, utterly confused. "Soph, love. It's alright. Daddy's alright."

"Oh, love, c'mere, I'm fine," Nick says, all wobbly.

Sophie weeps steadily as she crawls onto the bed, snot dripping down her face. Harry moves her over by the hips so she's not on Nick's torso, and she puts her sticky face into Nick's neck and sobs mournfully.

"Soph," Harry murmurs. "What did we say about daddy being sick-"

"It's alright," Nick says, blinking up at Harry. "Just let her - just for a minute. It's fine, she's not hurting me."

Harry nods, and pulls up a chair. Sophie stays there far longer than a minute, quietly breathing into Nick's neck, mouth pressed half-open to his skin. Nick strokes her hair, over and over. His eyes are fluttered shut but his hand never stops moving.

Finally Sophie sits up a little, and sneezes so suddenly she nearly falls off the bed. Harry chokes out a laugh, scooting closer to catch her in case she tumbles off, reaching over to fetch her a tissue.

"Bless you," Nick says, grinning. His face is still grey but he looks less empty than he did twenty minutes before.

Sophie rubs her nose, tries to go in for a picking, and Harry tugs her hand away.

"None of that, Soph."

She looks sheepish.

"You were poorly, daddy," she says matter-of-factly.

"I know I was. I'm sorry, did I scare you? Being so ill?"

Sophie chews her lip, looking down. "Yeah."

Harry swallows the thick lump in his throat.

"Don't have to be scared anymore," Nick says softly. "It's alright. And your sister's alright too."

"I saw her," Sophie says. "She's littler than my dolls."

Nick laughs. "Is she?"

"Yeah."

"She's pretty little."

Sophie nods, tips over sideways til she's sprawled out over Nick's thighs. Nick chokes on a breath, shoves at her shoulder, surprisingly hard.

"Love, _shit_ , that really hurts!" he snaps, face paling.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry says quickly, scooping Sophie up and setting her on his lap. Sophie wriggles defiantly and then settles back down, face in Harry's chest. Harry rubs her back. "I'm sorry, love. Do you- should I call the nurse?"

"No," Nick says faintly. He adjusts himself in bed, sucking in a sharp breath. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry, Soph."

"You knackered?" Harry asks him, pressing a kiss to Sophie's head. His hands are shaking just slightly, but he exhales slow, and they go still.

"God yes," Nick mumbles. "Worse than a breakfast show on no sleep."

"Straight-through crew," Harry says, and Nick smiles at him, soft. Harry's so grateful he almost starts sobbing again, so he looks away, puts his face into Sophie's hair. She needs a wash, but then they all do at this point.

"Dad," Sophie says, yawning. "What's my sister's name?"

Harry looks up, meets Nick's eyes.

Nick shrugs. "Never really got that far, did we."

"What d'you think her name should be, Soph?" Harry asks, and Nick winces.

"Harry-"

"Sunflower," Sophie says, apropos of absolutely nothing, like she'd had that stored up for a while.

"Sunflo- oh my god, our child's a _hippie_ ," Nick says, choking out an incredulous laugh. "Harry, this is your fault."

"Whassa hippie?"

"Nothing, Soph," Harry says. " _Sunflower._ "

"Harry-"

"Sunny for short," Harry says dreamily. "I like it."

"Sunflower my sister," Sophie murmurs.

"Wait, wait, I'm being outnumbered here," Nick says, voice rising. He's laughing, though. "Sunflower Grimshaw-Styles, that's - Haz, that's so celebrity. It's unacceptable. We're not the bloody Geldofs."

Harry's heart hurts. Sophie's falling asleep against his chest, and he can't stop thinking about having the both of them in his lap soon. Cuddled up together, best mates. Sophie getting protective the way she already is over her dads and her toys and Pig. Her _sister_ , Christ, it's so-

Harry swallows a sob, but it comes out halfway anyway, broken and wet. For a terrible moment he thinks about what Sophie would have to do, if Nick hadn't. If he hadn't gotten through it. Sophie telling her sister about their dad. Creating him with stories, til he was a legend and that's all. A memory.

Nick exhales softly, when Harry sobs again, helpless. "Oh, Haz-"

"Sorry," Harry chokes, as quietly as he can. Sophie's asleep, rosebud mouth half-open and breath coming slow against Harry's neck. A heavy weight on his legs, warm and grounding. "Just- just love you."

"Don't cry, love," Nick says, low, reaching out to grab at Harry's free hand.

"Was - was just so scary," Harry gasps, and it feels big, admitting it. How fucking terrified he was. "Was so bloody scary, Nick. I need you. I need you, alright?"

"I need you too," Nick says, sounding scared. "I'm here. I'm right here. I'll be alright, I promise."

"You can't leave us," Harry whispers.

"Not going to."

"You _can't_ -"

"I'm not _going_ to, Harry." Nick squeezes his hand hard. "Breathe, love."

Harry breathes. Puts his face into Sophie's hair.

"Sunflower, huh," Nick says wryly. "I nearly died just to have a baby named _Sunflower_."

Harry chokes a breath. He's got no idea how Nick can joke about it.

"We don't have to," he says.

Nick tips his head back against his pillow, sighing.

"What about Sunny?" he asks. "Just that. Sunny Grimshaw-Styles."

Harry rocks Sophie back and forth. She sighs in her sleep.

"Sophie and Sunny," he says, trying and failing to keep a stupid smile off his face.

"That's so bloody precious, Jesus. We'll get so much stick for it."

"It's sweet though. Sophie and Sunny. God."

"I keep trying to think of something else and I can't. But also I'm on a lot of medication. Is it bad to name your child summat _just_ cos you can't think of anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"Ohh, shut it, you just want me to agree to Sunny."

Harry grins, and Nick rolls his eyes.  

They're quiet for a minute.

"So we're doing it?" Nick asks. "Let's run it by the sprout. Get final confirmation."

Harry huffs a laugh, gently shakes Sophie awake, until she's whinging, rubbing her eyes.

"Daaad-"

"Sweetheart," Harry murmurs. "We've got to ask you something."

Sophie tries and fails to bury her face in Harry's chest again. Harry gently turns her head.

"Soph," Nick starts. "We want to call your sister Sunny."

Harry's throat goes hot again, and he bounces Sophie on his knee, swallowing hard.

"Sunflower?" Sophie asks, her voice croaky from sleep.

"Well- sort of. But just Sunny. Sunny Grimshaw-Styles."

"Her name's Sunflower."

"It's-" Nick looks up at Harry, laughs. "Oh god, is it? Is it Sunflower?"

Harry bites his lip. "Think it might be."

"I _swore_ I wouldn't let her name the baby," Nick says. "I swore-"

"Yeah, you swear a lot of things, Grim."

"Sunflower," Sophie says insistently. "It's pretty!"

"It is pretty, love," Harry murmurs.

"It's because she growed inside daddy like a pretty flower," Sophie murmurs, and Harry catches Nick's eye, both their faces screwed up in an identical expression of _shit that's sweet_. Oh, they've lost this one, haven't they.

"Sunflower," Harry says.

"We're immediately shortening it to Sunny," Nick reasons, but he's smiling, a giant stupid smile, curving his tired mouth. "God. Sunflower. That'll be fun for the papers."

"I told you already, daddy," Sophie says, already half-asleep again. "Sunflower."

\---

@Harry_Styles: Wildly in love with the newest member of our family. Sunflower Grimshaw-Styles, welcome to the world. You're early but I'm so glad you're here.

@Harry_Styles: We're not out of the woods yet but I have faith. Please send love and please respect our privacy, we appreciate it so much. Thank you Xx H

@grimmers: It's been a bloody awful few days but god am I glad to meet you, Sunflower. Sorry we let your sister name you. She's a weirdo hippie like her dad but she's too cute to resist.

@grimmers: Hospy's fun and all but sooooo ready to go home with my girls (and @Harry_Styles)

\---

Harry's falling back asleep when he hears Sophie murmur, "What're you doing, daddy?"

Nick coughs sleepily, the covers rustling. "Feeding your sister."

"But it's the middle of the night."

"Babies are hungry all the time," Nick says, yawning audibly. "When you were a little baby I fed you just like this, in the middle of the night."

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry tugs a pillow close to his chest.

"Awake, Haz?" Nick says softly.

"Little bit," Harry mumbles, and he feels a little hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up, daddy. Daddy's feeding the baby."

"She has a name, Soph," Nick says, huffing a laugh. "You picked it, don't you remember? And let your dad sleep, he's knackered."

"Why doesn't daddy feed the baby?"

"He feeds her sometimes. From the bottle."

"Why not like you?"

"Cos - cos I'm special," Nick says, and Harry laughs into the pillow. Nick shoves him with one hand.

"Why're _you_ special?"

"Cos she was in my tummy, not your dad's. So I can feed her like this."

"Why?"

Nick sighs. "Soph, I have to focus on Sunny for a bit, alright? So she can get full and go back to sleep. Why don't you try and sleep a bit, love?"

"Not tired."

"Well that makes one of us," Nick mutters.

"Did I eat like that? When I was a baby?"

"Yes, you - be careful with your sister, please, Soph. She's really little. Yeah, I fed you just like this."

Sophie's quiet for a minute, and Harry can hear Sunny sucking away, the soft sound of her mouth on Nick's nipple. Steady and familiar. He sighs into his pillow.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, love."

"I'm hungry."

"Sophie..."

"Can I have some jam?"

"Sweetheart, it's - god, it's 3 AM."

"But Sunny's eating."

"Cos she's a baby. Babies have to eat all the time."

"I'm a baby," Sophie says. "Goo goo ga ga."

Nick chokes out a creaky laugh.

"Goo goo ga ga!" Sophie repeats, giggling, and Harry can feel the bed moving. She's probably rolling around on her back like she's seen her sister do, kicking her legs.

"You are the absolute weirdest," Nick says softly.

"I'm a baaaby, daddy. I want jam."

"Babies only drink milk, Sophs."

"Want milk then." Sophie hums thoughtfully. "Can I eat like sister does?" She makes a sucking sound with her lips.

Nick laughs again. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's only for babies."

"Pleeeeeease, daddy. Please. Please-"

"Sophie, no, you can't." There's a minor scuffle, and then Nick says, laughing, "Sophie, _stoppit_. Do we touch other people without asking?"

"I want milk!"

"Oh my god. Fine. Try it out if you're gonna get in a strop. Be very careful with your teeth, alright? Don't bite, it really hurts me, alright? Just use your lips. Like a straw."

Harry's brow furrows, and he rolls over in bed to watch. Nick looks over at him, going red.

"Shut up," he whispers. "She won't _stop_."

Sophie ducks her head to Nick's chest, wriggling down the bed, and goes quiet for a moment, before she pulls away, spluttering.

"I don't like it!" she says, sticking her tongue out and scrubbing at it with her hand. "Don't like it!"

"Cos it's for babies, Soph, I told you," Nick says, laughing as she sits up, pouting. "It's not for big girls."

"It doesn't _taste_ like milk."

"It's very special and only for - for babies," Nick says, breaking off halfway to yawn hugely. He cups a hand under Sunny's head as she latches on again.

"So when the baby's older, she's not gonna-"

"Soph," Harry says, voice gravelly. He coughs. "Think we'll go back to your bed, now, alright?"

"No-o-o," Sophie whimpers.

"Yes, love." Harry forces himself upright, grabs Sophie around the waist, holding on tight as she squirms in her fleecy pyjamas. "Come on."

"Took you long enough," Nick laughs, as Harry stumbles out of bed with Sophie in his arms.

"Daddy, wanna _stay_ -"

"You can't tonight, my love. Bed. Let's go." Harry puts her arms around his neck and helplessly, like a reflex, she clings on, grumbling.

He gets her down into bed, ends up spending five minutes there singing softly to calm her down while she grasps at his t-shirt with a weakening hand, mumbling about jam.

Finally she's out. Harry watches her for a moment, runs two fingers down her soft peach-fuzzed cheek, and stands up with a groan.

Nick's down for the count too, and Sunny's still tucked up to his bare chest, small mouth open. Harry's so, so tempted to let them sleep like that.

It's stupid, though. Sunny's tiny and they've got to be careful.

Harry leans over Nick to gently scoop up the baby from his chest. Nick's head tips to the side and he sighs in his sleep.

Sunny goes down easy, full and content. Harry reaches down to brush his fingers over her cheek. He loves that feeling, when they're both sleeping. Both his girls.

He goes back to bed. The house is hushed, and Nick is still asleep. The scar on his stomach is thick and red and harsh, skin pale and shaved bare around it. It'll go white as it heals, the doctor said, but it'll always be there.

It makes Harry's breath catch to see it. Sometimes when it's dark and everyone else is asleep he thinks of the dizzying fear of it, sitting in the hospital not sure if Nick was coming home with him. Doing all this alone.

Shit, Harry's so lucky. Thank fucking God.

He gets back into bed, eases Nick down onto the pillows. Nick grumbles, doesn't open his eyes, and Harry slips in next to him, mumbles a good night and lets his own eyes fall shut.

\---

"Hi, love," Nick coos. "Hi hi hi."

Sunny blinks up at them, moon-faced and silent. One chubby arm sticks straight up in the air.

"Love you," Nick murmurs, before he straightens up.

"Quiet one, isn't she," he says, chewing his bottom lip. Harry can see the tension in his shoulders.

"Doctor said that was normal, Grim," Harry murmurs, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "She's only a bit behind. She'll catch up."

"How d'you know that?" Nick asks, sounding sour.

"Because the doctor _said_."

Nick shrugs him off, and reaches in to pick Sunny up.

"You're alright, aren't you, darling?" he asks, nestling her against his chest. "You're all good. You're a genius, aren't you, you're just keeping it to yourself."

Sunny's eyes stay open, and she blinks at Harry. Harry leans in to press a kiss against her head.

"You're only forgetting cos Sophie's all grown-up," he says, taking Sunny's tiny hand. "Babies are like this. She's six months old, Grim, she's still little."

"Sophie wasn't like this."

"Yes, she was. And you can't compare them, you'll give her a complex."

Nick shoots him a look over Sunny's head, walks her over to the daybed and wrestles off his t-shirt. It takes Sunny a while to latch, like always, and Harry sits down next to them, presses his forehead against Nick's warm arm and shuts his eyes.

"There you are," Nick says softly. "Go on. Nope, nope, baby, not that way. It's alright. Try it again."

Harry opens his eyes and sees Nick carefully easing Sunny's mouth onto his nipple.

"Yeah," Nick whispers, head bent. "There you go."

He strokes her back, looks up, and Harry catches his mouth in a kiss.

"Love you," he murmurs.

Nick nods, chewing his lip. He looks back down at Sunny.

"Think she'll be alright?"

"She'll be fine."

"I dunno." Nick watches her. "Me mum said I was babbling away by now."

"Well, you could never shut the hell up, could you, Grim."

Nick breathes out a laugh, kisses him again.  

"Arsehole."

"Love you," Harry says again, too sincere, his heart doing a wobble in his chest.

Nick grins at him, and looks down when Sunny slips off his chest, gurgles out a bubble of milk, looking unhappy. Harry puts a hand under her bum so Nick can wipe off her chin, get her sorted.

"Oh, darling," Nick says, low and soft. "It's alright, it's alright, let's try again."

\---

Harry taps in Nick's password, tugs the laptop closer to him, shifting on the pillow under his chest.

Nick's desktop picture is a photo of Sophie and Sunny sprawled out in bed, Sunny caught in a rare open-mouthed smile, Sophie holding her hand. Harry lets out a sigh. He misses them. It's only two nights away - to finish work on a couple tracks for the album - but he misses them anyhow. Sunny's seven months old now and Harry still hasn't left them for more than a night.

He grabs his phone, texts Nick.

_Nice desktop photo soppy Xxxx_

Nick doesn't respond. Sleeping, probably. It's late. Harry's got studio time at seven in the morning the next day, but he can't sleep.

He's about to open up Chrome when something catches his eye. A folder on Nick's desktop, tucked behind another, labeled "For Sophie".

Harry hums, clicks on it.

There's a couple untitled videos, dark and blurry, and a word document titled "Sophie".

Harry checks his phone, but Nick hasn't messaged back.

He opens the first video, breath catching in his throat.

It's Nick, sat at their desk at home, eyes big in his pale face.

He smiles weakly at the camera, and Harry watches, frozen.

"Hi Soph," Nick says, shakily. "It's daddy. I- I want to, um, to talk to you. If you're watching this I'm, um, well, I guess I'm not there anymore-"

Harry hits pause, his throat clenching up so fast it hurts.

Shit. Fucking- shit.

He hugs the pillow in front of him, staring blurry-eyed at the screen. He wants to turn the laptop off. Chuck it out the bloody window. He doesn't want to see this.

But he- he reaches out, gingerly hits Play again. He has to.

"I'm sorry about that," Nick says, still smiling, strained. "I'm so sorry, my love. I love you and I'll- I'll always love you. I'm so sorry I'm- I'm gone. I was, um. I was very very poorly. But I promise I miss you awfully. I think about you all the time."

Harry sobs hard, reaches over to the bedside to fumble for a tissue, something clenching like a fist inside his chest. Nick keeps talking, voice low and soft and familiar.

"- I want you to be very happy," Nick murmurs. "And to be happy with your dad. He loves you and - and he'll take very good care of you. Listen - listen, Soph, you're-"

He stops, coughs as his eyes spill over. Scrubs a hand over his face.

"You're always gonna be my baby, alright?" he says, voice choked. "No matter what. No matter if I'm not there anymore. I wish I could, um. Be there and see you get bigger and grow up. I really wish that. But - but sometimes, sometimes people get sick. And it's - it's not fair, but it happens. And you have - you have to keep going and try to be happy."

He sniffs in hard, and Harry chokes a sob into the tissue, desperate and thick. He hates this but he can't bloody stop watching. He didn't know Nick even bloody thought this way. He didn't know.

"I know I'm not there," Nick stammers out. "To- to talk to you. But you can talk to me whenever you want, alright? You just- you just talk and I'll hear you, I promise. Anytime you want, Soph. I'm listening."

His face twists for a moment, and Harry stares at him helplessly, his throat burning hot.

"Be good to daddy, alright?" Nick whispers. He coughs again. "Daddy loves you so much. He's - he's gonna be sad too. He needs you. You- you two need to love each other very much so you won't be sad that I'm gone."

He smiles, all watery. "I love you. I- I love you, Sophie Anne. I love you so much, never forget that. You're so special. I loved getting four years with you. I wish I had more, I- I do, love, I-"

Harry watches as Nick covers his face for a moment. He drags in an audible breath.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I just love you so much, Soph. I- y'know, before- before you were born, it was just you and me for a while. Daddy wasn't there yet. And sometimes I'd feel so so lonely, you know? Like all sad and weepy, and I'd talk to you, like. I'd talk to you sometimes even though you were just in my belly and you weren't even born yet."

His voice is shaking. "I loved you so much even back then, Sophie. You're my good good girl. Always. You have to be good and strong for me now, alright? It's okay to be sad, but you- you have to keep being brave. You have to be happy without me. You will, I know you will. I love you forever, baby, alright? Always always."

He chokes, wipes his eyes. "I love you. I'll - I'll see you someday, Soph. I promise. Be good. Be safe. Love you always."

He smiles at the camera, wide and pained, and reaches out to turn it off.

The room's silent, and Harry shuts the laptop, shoves it away from him and gasps a sob into the pillow, loud and harsh. It's proper weeping, then, so hard and fast he can't breathe. It's been ages since he cried so hard.

He quiets eventually, until he's whimpering into the pillow, his face hot. Sometimes it's so bloody scary, what they've done to him. The way they feel like his heart.

He lifts his head, letting out a long breath. Picks up his phone. His hands are wobbly like they get after a good cry.

Nick's texted him back, and for a minute Harry's so grateful he thinks he'll sob again. Nick's here. Nick's not gone, Nick's _here_.

_Shutup you've got the same on your phone. Hows HC? We're all good here except Sun just took a lovely shit in her diaper and then rubbed it on herself while cackling !  Sophie thinks it's hilarious. :( getting in bath now_

Harry chokes out a laugh, pulls himself up in bed until he's sitting cross-legged.

He could ring Nick but he - he doesn't want to, for some reason. It feels too raw. He'll start crying again if he hears Nick's voice right now.

He types- _Im sorry im not there (well sort of). Good luck w/ that…_

And then, sucking in a rough breath - _I love you so so much. Give S & S a kiss for me please. Well after they're washed._

When it's sent he sets his phone down, rubs at his eyes for a minute and drags himself into the shower.

\---

Nick's not doing anything special. Absently pumping, the machine whirring as he scrolls through his Ipad with his free hand. Harry stares at him anyway, at every little bit of him, until Nick feels it and looks up.

"Stoppit," he says, sheepishly. "What're you looking at?"

Harry shrugs, crawls close to Nick on the bed.

"Sometimes I miss you even when you're here," he says against Nick's ear.

Nick huffs a laugh. "What's that mean?"

Harry shrugs again. He puts his hand against Nick's free nipple, bare and swollen, and Nick curls his fingers around Harry's wrist.

"Careful now, Styles," he says. "This is no time for a titty twister. It's a sensitive area at the minute."

Harry rolls his eyes. Rubs his thumb under Nick's nipple, chewing his bottom lip.

"Not actually a woman, Haz, I'm sorry," Nick says, sounding amused.

"Shut it."

"I’m just saying." Nick laughs.

Harry nuzzles against his shoulder, breathes him in. He wants to eat Nick whole sometimes, swallow him and keep him where nothing can ever touch him again. It's scary, that feeling. He gets it with Sophie and Sunny too, just - he wants to keep them inside. Keep them very still and safe. He knows he can't, but he wants it all the same.

He sniffs in hard, and Nick turns his head, nose nudging against Harry's cheek. "You alright, love?"

Harry nods.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, nodding at the pump.

Nick lets out a breath. "Nah. Hurts less than Sunny gnawing at it."  

Harry wrinkles his nose. "Gnawing."

Nick snorts. “Her gums are deadly, Styles. She’s a cannibal. I've barely got a nipple left by the time she's done with me.”

Harry smiles against Nick’s shoulder. “Cutest cannibal in the world.”

Nick shrugs in agreement, looking back at his Ipad.

“Nick?”

“Hmm.”

“Can you- for a minute.” Harry tugs the Ipad down gently. “Sorry.”

Nick arches an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Just. I dunno.” Harry puts his face against Nick’s neck. “I- I watched the video you made. For Sophie.”

“What video?” Nick says absently, fiddling with something on the pump and setting it aside. He reaches for his shirt and tugs it over his head.

“The one on your computer.” Harry swallows. “Grim, the one you- you wanted me to show her if - if something went wrong.”

Nick stiffens, breath catching.

“Oh,” he says after a moment, carefully casual. “That one. Forgot to delete that.”

Harry’s not even sure what he wants to say.

“I just.” He reaches down for Nick’s hand. “I didn’t, um, know you did that. You never said.”

“Didn’t want to freak you out.” Nick won’t look at him. “I dunno. It was silly, I know-”

“It wasn’t silly.” Harry squeezes Nick’s hand hard. “It- I just- it really, like-”

He tips his head gently against Nick’s shoulder. “Couldn’t stop crying for ages after I watched it. I was a mess.”

“Oh- _Haz_ ,” Nick says softly. “Shouldn’t’ve bloody watched it. I’m fine.”

“But it’s just- God, Nick, what if you hadn’t been?” Harry’s frustrated with himself, all of a sudden. He’s got no bloody idea why he can’t stop thinking about it. Why he can be singing along to the radio in the car with Sophie, sipping a coffee, and suddenly out of nowhere he remembers watching Nick in the hospital and he feels fucking terrified. He wishes he could turn his bloody brain off. “If you hadn’t-”

“But I’m _fine_ ,” Nick says, firmly. “It was shit, but we got through it. It was last _year_ , Haz. We have to let it go.”

Harry’s breath hitches. He looks away, blinking furiously.

“What if you get sick again?”

“Harry-”

“Or, or-” Harry sucks in a shuddery breath. “Or Sophie gets sick, or Sunny has some- something happen and we’re not there.”

Nick grabs at his hand, holds on tight. “What’s this, love? What is this, what’re you talking about?”

“I can’t-” Harry tries. He drops his head to Nick’s shoulder, tries to breathe. “I can’t, fuck-”

Nick turns to him, big hand coming up to cup the back of Harry’s head. “Hey,” he says, and he sounds scared. “Hey, god, Hazza, don’t. Don’t-”

Harry knows it right then, sickening and inevitable - one of them’s gonna die. Harry knows. His vision goes blurry with fear and he can’t breathe, can’t move, can only cling onto Nick’s shoulder and know Nick’ll be taken away.

“Harry,” Nick whispers. “Hey."

Harry can’t speak. He shakes his head, and Nick rubs his back, gently, sounding terrified when he whispers, “Breathe, Harry, love. Breathe, love, c’mon. Breathe-”

He’s pressing his mouth to Harry’s temple when the door creaks open and Sophie sighs, “Daddy, I can’t find my pyjamas.”

“Be right there, Soph,” Nick says, loud and quick, pulling Harry’s face to his neck to hide him. His hand's an anchor at the top of Harry's spine, warm and steady. “Go back to your room.”

“Daddy?” Sophie asks, voice going wobbly. “Why’s daddy crying?”

Harry chokes helplessly against Nick’s skin. He wants to say _I’m fine, darling_ , but he can’t. He can’t lift his head.

“He’s fine,” Nick says firmly. “Go to your room, Sophie-”

“Daddy,” Sophie says, louder, scared, and Nick gives Harry a fierce kiss on the ear and stands up, grabbing for the container of milk on the nightstand. Harry puts his face in the crook of his elbow, gasps for air.

“Get to your room, Sophie Anne,” Nick says sharply, steering her through the door. “C’mon.”

The door shuts and Harry’s alone, wheezing in the quiet room. He fumbles for a tissue with shaking hands, tips over til he’s on his side in bed, staring at the wall.

He's only sniffling by the time Nick comes back in, sinking down to sit at the edge of the bed.

Nick puts a hand on his side. "How're we doing?"

"Sorry," Harry says thickly. "I'm fine, I'm sorry. I dunno what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you."

Harry rubs a hand over his face.

"You're just tired," Nick murmurs. "It's been a long day."

"I dunno if it's just that." Harry sucks in a shaking breath.

"What do you mean?"

Nick's peering at him, guileless and worried. Harry makes himself smile, makes himself shake his head. It feels wooden, forced.

"Nothing," he says. "I dunno. I'm just- tired. Like you said."

Nick reaches out to stroke his hair. "I'll make you a cup of tea, how's that?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice, thanks."

"Alright. Be back in a minute."

"Thanks, Grim."

"Course."

Harry keeps the smile on his face until Nick turns away.

\---

Harry picks a photo of Nick last Christmas, standing in front of a glittery lit-up shop window with Sophie holding his hand and Sunny wrapped up against his chest. Nick's face is half-hidden by a scarf but his eyes are bright, cheeks flushed with cold. He looks painfully happy.

Harry stares at it for a while, before he types -

_They're ours and I'm his. Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there but especially to my husband @nicholasgrimshaw . So happy we're doing this together._

He hits Post before he can second-guess it. Nick'll understand, anyway. He has Harry's letters folded up in a drawer in his desk. Harry found them when he was looking for Post-Its a while ago. He read them all over again. It made him cry a bit, sitting in Nick's desk chair and staring at his scrawling handwriting, the lines in the papers all creased with age. He didn't even know Nick kept them.

Harry scrolls down on his feed, stops when he sees Nick's name. It's a photo of Harry, one he didn't know was being taken. He's sprawled in bed on his back with Sophie curled next to him in her pyjamas, chin propped on Harry's arm, and Sunny plopped down on his chest. Harry knows when it's from - a few weeks ago, a lazy Sunday morning in April. Nick went off to fetch breakfast cos they couldn't be bothered to cook, and Harry brought the girls into their bed. They just laid there for a while with the radio on low, Sophie whinging on about not wanting to go to school the next day, Sunny quiet as always but smiling like the sun whenever Sophie reached up to tickle her tummy. Nick came into the bedroom, leaned against the door and watched them. He sounded like he was grinning when he said, "C'mon, lazy-bums, let's eat."

Under it Nick's written-

_Sometimes cant believe this is my actual life. I get to hang out with my 3 best mates every single day I'm the luckiest. Thank you for everything Hazza you're the best dad ever_

Harry grins, swipes over to Nick's name in his contacts and hits Call.

"Harold," Nick greets him, sounding like he's laughing. "Hi, love."

"Hi."

"I'm almost out of the Beeb. Just poking in to have a chat on Greg's show for a minute. Tune in if you like, I know you're my biggest fan."

"Always," Harry says, biting down a stupid smile. "Happy Father's Day. I just saw your post."

"Just saw yours too. In the elevator." Nick huffs a laugh. "Are we the worst? Like _way_ too soppy?"

"The best, I think."

"You've corrupted me, rockstar. I was a heartless slag before you. Now I've got feelings and things."

Harry just laughs stupidly.

"I'll be home soon," Nick says, a bit softer.

"See you soon, then." Harry squeezes his eyes shut. There's not enough time to say what he wants to. But that's the nice part, now. Harry's got a whole life to say it. Doesn't he?

"Love you, weirdo," Nick says, warm and close into his ear. "See you at home."

 ---

Gemma sends him the link, with just - _Watch this!! 2:24_ written in the email subject line.

Nick wrinkles his nose, clicks on the link. "Have you gone senile, Gemma Styles?" he says under his breath. "Like a nan sending me random videos-"

He stops. It's an interview with Harry, taken in LA the day before. Some American telly program Nick hasn't really watched. He turns the volume up.

The reporter's a woman, dark hair pulled up in an immaculate bun.

"- of course," she's saying, leaning forward. Harry's legs are sprawled, his eyes sleepy with jetlag. He's nodding politely, though. Course he is. "Of course, everyone's excited to hear your first album after having your second child. The album's expected to come out in November. Can we expect some songs about Sunflower? Amazing name, by the way."

Harry tucks his hair behind his ears, laughs. "Ahh, thanks. Her sister picked it. Well, maybe, like. A few, yeah. But I mean, the album was mostly finished when I found out my husband was pregnant, so. Most of it was written before Sunny came along. And it's hard, obviously, to write when she's little. Cos it's quite a lot of work. An infant, I mean. She's nearly a year old and still keeps us very busy."

The reporter's nodding. "Absolutely, oh my god, of course. Speaking of your family, how do they feel about your career? I know you've known your husband since you were in One Direction, but does he ever worry about the fans and the busy schedule now that you're trying to raise two kids?"

"Uhh, well. It's definitely on our minds," Harry says slowly. "I didn't start making music again til my oldest daughter was three. It just wasn't something I wanted when she was younger. And, I mean. I'm really lucky cos Nick's so supportive, but like. Yeah, we worry. But I'm quite fortunate cos I really have the ability to set my own schedule. Not gonna be off touring for eight months like I did with the band, so. It works out."

He coughs into his elbow, takes a sip from his water bottle.

"What about media attention?" the reporter says, crossing her legs. "With two small children, is it easy to keep them away from the press? Do you feel protective?"

"No, I don't feel protective at all," Harry says, deadpan, and then he laughs, and the reporter echoes it awkwardly. Ahh, Americans. "I'm joking. Uhh, yes. I feel very protective. It's strange, cos Nick and I both have experience with the press, but only starting as an- well, I was sixteen, so that's young, but not, like. A baby. So it's been hard sometimes. Sophie and Sunny are so good about it, though. They're the happiest kids. Sophie's really made a joke of it now, she loves to pose for the cameras. She's a ham."

He grins, scrubs a hand through his hair, and Nick has to bite his lip to keep from making a fond sound.

"It's actually been- I mean. It's been hard, with Sunny. Because she came early and she had some health complications, and so we haven't taken her out as much as we did with Sophie. The attention's just a bit much for her right now. And it's weird, cos when you don't indulge people in, like, information about your private life, there's all this resentment that comes out. Like if you don't play along."

The reporter hums, looking slightly wary of what Harry will say next. Might hit a bit close to home, that.

"Like, there've been some things written about my husband in the papers that make me think, _God, is this really worth it_?" Harry's hand clenches on his thigh. "Really awful things. Which is really, really frustrating. Because - because what he went through, like, to have our children, it's unbelievable. He went through hell. He literally went through hell and for people to just-"

He stops. Nick's holding his breath, staring at the screen.

Harry coughs, ducking his head, and then rubs a hand over his eyes. Nick winces hard. Oh, love.

"Sorry," Harry mutters. "Excuse me."

"Take your time," the reporter says gently, looking off camera, probably at a runner. A moment later someone hands her a box of tissues, and she holds it out to Harry. Harry shakes his head.

"Thanks," he says thickly. He coughs again. "Excuse me. I'm just a bit tired. Uhh. We- we do alright, with the media."

He stops talking, leaving an abrupt silence, and the reporter waits a beat before she asks, "So, uh, about the album, have you found it's been more collaborative than your first solo album, I know you've been working with Chris Martin, from-"

Nick closes the tab. He types a quick reply back to Gemma - _Oh haz!!! Poor love_ and then he picks up his phone.

He'd ring Harry, but it might be- yep. Definitely the middle of the night in LA. He texts him instead.

_How are you???? We miss you xxx Ring in the morning please love you xxxx_

A few more kisses than usual, but Nick's heart is clenching. Oh god, this'll probably be a whole _thing_ , won't it. Harry Styles Breaks Down In Interview.

He's scrolling through Instagram when his phone buzzes. It's Harry.

_Love you and miss you too. Give s &s kisses for me. Xxx_

Nick sighs, and hits _Call_.

Harry answers after one ring. "Lo?"

"Why aren't you asleep? It's two AM."

Harry huffs a laugh, low. "I'm trying."

"You've been there for a week, are you still jetlagged?"

"Had a Red Bull at like eight." Harry yawns audibly. "I dunno. Julian wanted to stay up, but I bailed around midnight. Now I can't sleep."

"Poor Haz," Nick says softly. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine, good, I-" Harry stops. "Wait. You've- you've seen that video of me crying, haven't you. I was _tired_."

"Gemma sent it to me."

Harry heaves a breath. "I was so exhausted, Grim."

"I know, darling. It's fine. I know you're fine. I'm just- y'know. I get to be worried too."

Harry's quiet for a long moment.

"I'm sorry I talked about you," he says quietly.

"Oh god, Haz, you can always- you know I trust your judgment."

Harry goes mute again, and then draws in a shuddery little inhale.

“I just- I think I’ve-” Harry stops, and Nick waits. Takes him a while sometimes. “I’ve- I’ve been a bit, um. A bit screwed-up since Sunny was born. Or- I dunno since when. But for a while.”

Nick’s chest goes tight with surprise, cold as an ice cube. “How d’you mean?”

Harry blows out a long breath.

“Sometimes it’s like- I can, I can be having a completely, um, normal day- everything normal - and then, like. I just, I just-”

He stops, drawing in a shaky inhale. God, Nick wants to touch him. “And then what, love?”

“I think about you getting sick,” Harry whispers, and Nick’s eyes fall shut. He exhales. “Or the girls getting sick. I - I don’t want to, Grim. I don’t want to-”

Nick draws in a deep breath. “Sick how?”

“I dunno.” Harry’s voice is wet. “Dying. Think about you dying.”

“Oh- Haz. Jesus Christ.”

“I hate it,” Harry chokes. “Had a panic attack at the airport, just. Couldn’t fucking breathe. Cried half the fucking flight, I hate it, Nick. I hate this-”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Nick says dumbly. He opens his eyes again. “You never said you’ve been feeling that way.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry sounds froggy, rough, and Nick’s chest aches. “Didn’t wanna, like, freak you out. I dunno.”

“You’re not,” Nick says, though he is. Nick’s properly freaked out. “I’m so sorry, Haz. That’s shit. I- I wish I could, like-”

He falters. What could he do? Just tell Harry he’ll be fine forever? That’s a lie. Make Harry’s brain stop fucking him over?

“Love you,” he says instead of finishing. “I love you, darling. I’m fine, we’re all so fine and healthy and alright, love, I promise. We’re all alright.”

“I _know_ ,” Harry says, frustrated.

“I- I know you know. I’m sorry.” Nick swallows. “Just- I dunno what I can do.”

It hangs there, small and honest. Nick rubs his hand over his stinging eyes.

“Just stay on the phone a bit,” Harry mumbles eventually. “Til I fall asleep.”

Nick nods, says out loud, “I will.”

Harry draws in an unsteady breath. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m sorry I’m being so- so mental.” Harry sniffs hard.

“It’s alright. You’re not. Shh, lay your head down, Haz. Time to sleep.”

It’s the way he talks to Sophie when she’s at her wit’s end, body tired and mind awake, wanting to scream and yell and run and fight Nick with every ounce of her strength. Nick lays her down in the center of her soft bed, pulls the covers up to her stubborn chin, and talks very, very softly.

“I love you,” Harry mumbles, sounding half-asleep.

“You too.”

Harry murmurs, unintelligible, and Nick _shh_ s him again, clutching the phone hard against his ear.  

“Sleep,” he whispers, listening to Harry breathe. “Go to sleep, love.”

He only hangs up when he’s sure Harry’s gone.

\-----------

 

CHRISTMAS, 2024

"Someone's ready for bed," Harry says quietly, nudging Nick's side, and Nick looks over at the sofa, where Sunny's nestled against Pete's chest, both of them fast asleep.

"Ohh my god." Nick fumbles for his phone. "Shit, that's cute."

"I know."

Nick gives Harry a kiss on the cheek. "Fetch Soph, will you? Let's get 'em both to sleep so they're not awful tomorrow."

"They won't be awful, it's Christmas," Harry grumbles, but he goes.

Nick stands over them on the sofa, snaps a few shots. Pete's got one hand tucked around Sunny's bum so she won't fall, her tiny hand flung out against his neck. Nick has to sniffle a bit, watching them. They've taken to each other lately, even more than Sophie has with her granddad. They both enjoy chocolate Hobnobs and a good long nap. They understand each other.

Nick swallows hard, and says quietly, "Dad."

Pete doesn't stir.

" _Dad_. Wake up." Nick reaches out to jostle his shoulder, and Pete humphs out a breath, eyes opening halfway.

"Wha?"

"I'm taking her to bed," Nick says softly, sliding Sunny out of Pete's arms.

"Mm, alright," Pete mumbles, but he holds Sunny close for a minute, presses a kiss against her temple. Sunny sighs. "Night, love."

"Night night," Sunny says, mush-mouthed and sleepy.

Nick hoists Sunny onto his hip, her head thunking against his shoulder. He's halfway to the door when his dad says, "Nicholas?"

Nick turns. "Yeah?"

Pete's looking at him, a bit confusedly, like Nick's a posh, camp, oddly-dressed stranger who's just broke into Pete's house. Nick's used to that, though. He knows his dad loves him, but he also knows his dad's bloody baffled by him.

"Doin' a good job with 'em," Pete says gruffly. "With the girls. You and Harry."

"Henry, you mean, dad. His name's Henry."  

"Ah, shut it," Pete mutters, and Nick laughs. "Don't be smart."

Nick shifts Sunny's weight in his arms. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah. Go to bed."

"G'night," Nick says, eyes going all prickly again. He sniffs in hard. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, son."

Nick turns away, takes a long inhale of Sunny's curls, brushing soft against his chin. He makes his way up the creaky stairs.

Sophie's tearing around the bedroom, naked except for her pyjama bottoms. Harry's sat on the bed, Sophie's toothbrush in hand, looking half-asleep.

"Baby," he says, wearily, just as Nick nudges the door open with his shoulder. "You weren't finished brushing, come here."

"Don't wanna brush," Sophie pants, crawling up onto the desk in the corner of the room. A magazine falls to the floor with a thump. "I'm not gonna brush, dad!"

"Oh, you absolutely are," Nick says, huffing a laugh. "Here, Haz, trade ya?"

He plops Sunny into Harry's arms, and Harry falls onto the bed on his back, holding Sunny against his chest. He kisses the top of her head.

"Don't think you're getting out of brushing your teeth either, Harold," Nick warns. "Not with that coffee breath."

Harry mumbles sleepily, and Nick rolls his eyes.

"Sophie Anne Grimshaw-Styles," he says, enunciating. "You come here this instant."

Sophie grins at him from the top of the desk, legs kicking.

"Sophie..."

"Daddy…" she says, in exactly the same tone.

Nick sighs. "It's time to brush your tee-"

"It's time t'brush your teeth!" Sophie giggles.

"Someone's been playing the copy game all night," Harry murmurs.

"Sounds like a blast," Nick says dryly. "Sophie, c'mere. Listen. You've got to brush your teeth or there won't be any presents tomorrow. Presents are only for good little girls who keep their teeth clean."

Sophie looks doubtful. She's quite savvy for a six year old.

"Sunny hasn't brushed her teeth," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Is she gonna get presents?"

"Sunny's gonna brush right after you. You've got to- to set an example." Nick doesn't know how to motivate older siblings. He and Harry were both the babies, other people set the examples. "C'mon, my love. Don't you want Sunny to have nice clean teeth like you do?"  

"No." Sophie looks unbothered. "Don't want to."

"Well, we all do things we don't want." Harry lets out a soft snort, and Nick looks over at him accusingly. "Like, see, I didn't _want_ to drive all the way up North, but your daddy fell asleep in the car and pretended he couldn't hear me, so I had to-"

"Oh my god," Harry laughs, eyes closed. Sunny's still passed out on his chest. "Get over it, Grim."

"Yeah, get over it, dad," Sophie says, matter-of-factly.

"Brush your teeth, Soph!" Harry calls.

Alright. Nick's had enough of this. Sophie's still small enough to be picked up, so he sticks her toothbrush in his mouth, grabs her around the waist and hauls her over one shoulder.

"Daaad! Lemme go!"

"Yep, I know, I'm an awful dictator, I know," Nick says, muffled around the toothbrush, laughing as she tries to get away. She settles after a moment, wrapping her legs around his waist. Nick fumbles for the brush with one hand, pulls it out. "Alright, darling. Listen, I'll brush my teeth with you, how 'bout."

"Okay," she murmurs, suddenly sweet. Her breath puffs hot against Nick's neck, and Nick turns his head to press his mouth to her temple.

"We'll both get nice clean teeth," he says, quietly. "We'll have the shiniest nicest teeth in the whole world. Finally get rid of those stereotypes about English people."

"Mmhm." She's starting to go limp. Nick's got to get in there before she passes out.

He manages it, shoves the brush in her hand and guides it into her mouth while she pouts. Eventually they’re all sprawled out in various states of consciousness on the bed, the lights out, lamp casting a warm golden glow. Sunny’s come awake for some reason, and she’s giggling against Harry’s chest as Sophie makes weird sounds for her amusement. Nick keeps dozing off and waking up to another peal of Sunny’s gurgly laughter.

“Oh, I’m sooo so so excited for _Christmas_ ,” Sophie says, crawling over Sunny to cling to Harry’s neck. “I hope I got every single present I wanted. Daddy, do you think I got every single present I wanted?”

Nick reaches for Sunny before Sophie accidentally steps on her head. Sunny snuggles up against him, and Nick gives her a squeeze around the waist, reaches down to cup her little fleece-clad feet in her onesie, warm and solid in his palms. He kisses the fluffy top of her head.

“Maybe not every single thing, Soph,” Harry murmurs. “But it’s not about presents, is it? It’s about family.”

Nick rolls his eyes, and Sophie’s quiet for a second.

“Yeah...” she says eventually, sounding doubtful. “Ooh, I hope Santa brought that big white teddy bear I wanted. I want it soo so bad.”

Nick laughs wearily at Harry over her head. As it happens, Santa _did_ bring that big white teddy bear, cos Nick and Harry are both awful pushovers. Harry smiles, mouth curving up, and tugs Sophie onto his lap, kissing her temple.

“I love you,” he says to Sophie. His eyes are still on Nick, though, dark and soft.

“Love you too,” Sophie sighs, as her eyes fall shut, and her breaths go even and slow as she falls asleep.

Nick checks in on Sunny. Down for the count, too. He looks at Harry and laughs.

“She’s so spoiled,” Harry says, with a sigh.

“Oh, it’s Christmas, Hazza. She can get back to your affirmation bullshit on Boxing Day.”

Harry snorts, raises his middle finger, and Nick blows him a kiss.

They're all dozing off when Harry taps Nick's foot with his own. “Hey.”

Nick blinks awake, peering at him. Sophie and Sunny are between them on the bed, both of them snoring gently. They need to go down somewhere else, but Nick's too sleepy and fond to move them at the minute. “Mm?”

Harry smiles at him. "Happy Christmas."

"Woke me up for that?" Nick huffs a laugh, reaching out to tuck a pillow under Sophie's head. She barely stirs. "Happy Christmas, Haz."

"I'm so- I'm so lucky," Harry says, voice hoarse. "Love you so much, Nick."

It comes out shaky, and Nick stares at him, alarmed.

"You too, love-"

"Just." Harry shakes his head, turns his face up to the ceiling. Nick watches his lip wobble. "Sometimes I have, like, these weird- I dunno. I think about, y'know. What if you'd never told me Sophie was mine?"

Nick's completely awake now. It's been a long time since they talked about that.

"I wouldn't even know her," Harry says. He's still staring at the ceiling, face very tight, strangely clenched. "I wouldn't even be her dad."

"Sunny wouldn't be here."

"God." Harry clears his throat. "It's just bloody weird."

Nick reaches over, rests his hand over Harry's chest. He can feel him breathing, deep and rough.

"Thank god I got my head out my arse, then," he says softly. "Thank god you came home."

"Yeah." Harry laughs, choked. "Thank god."

"You're talking like that again." Nick looks away. Hard conversation to have when they're making eye contact. "What if this, what if that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Haz, you don't have to say you're sorry, that's not what I'm- I just, like. I know it's hard, like, when you're - you know. I know it's not just about logic and everything."

Harry doesn't say anything. He's looking determinedly at the ceiling. He doesn't love to talk about the way he gets, sometimes, the anxiety that's taken root in him since Sunny was born. He sees someone for it every couple weeks, in London - her name's Maria, she's wildly expensive, she has four dogs and no children, and that's all Nick knows. Harry doesn't talk much about their sessions, except when he comes home with some strange idea for bonding and they all have to spend the night writing letters to each other and practicing their breathing while holding hands.

"But I remember," Nick murmurs, reaching over again, this time for Harry's hand. "That you're supposed to think in the now, or whatever. Isn't that what you said? Think about what you have, right now. Not about it being, like, taken away."

Harry squeezes his fingers, hard.

"Yeah, I know," he says after a minute. His voice sounds croaky.

"You've got me," Nick whispers. "And Sophie, and Sunny. We're not going anywhere."

"See, I don't know that," Harry says, very brittle. He swallows hard. "I don't know that you're not going anywhere, and that's the part that's shit."

"I know." Nick's heart aches. Harry looks so fucking _scared_ , staring up at the ceiling with burning eyes.

"I know it's irrational. I know."

"Course you do. But that doesn't make it easier, does it?"

Harry sniffles, and shakes his head. He turns his gaze to Nick, then to the girls between them, faces golden from the light in the en-suite. Nick watches them too. They look like a painting, perfect and serene. Harry's pink soft mouth in miniature form on both their sweet faces. Nick's eyes go blurry. 

"We just have to keep going," he says, the words rough like they're being dragged out of him. He doesn't know what the hell he's saying but it feels right. "Can't be scared. Have to just- just keep going. Keep living."

"I'm trying," Harry whispers.

"I know you are. You're so good, Haz. Best dad ever, I mean it."

Harry swallows, eyes glassy. "Shit. I'm sorry. It's Christmas."

"Stop bloody saying sorry." Nick leans over the girls to press a kiss to Harry's mouth. He tastes like salt and toothpaste. "Seriously, love. You're alright. You can say anything to me."

Harry lets out an unsteady breath against Nick's mouth, and Nick kisses him again, sinks back down into the bed.

"We should get them to bed," he says.

"Not tonight," Harry says, voice rough. "Just- let them stay tonight. It's Christmas."

Nick turns onto his side, facing all of them- Sunny and Sophie and Harry, all lined up in a neat little row. His family. Nick's _family_. He bloody made two of them. How completely weird.

He tugs the duvet up to his neck, shivering. "Alright."

Harry smiles sleepily at him. "G'night."

Nick reaches over to stroke his hair out of his face, very gently. "Good night, love. See you in the morning."

\---

SPRING, 2026

"Sunny!" Sophie screams, tugging at her sister's hand. "Come _on_! Hurry up!"

"Soph," Harry says warningly, trying to balance the grocery bag and Sophie's backpack while also holding Sunny's hand. His other hand's occupied with a bottle of wine that Nick made him swear to protect. "Don't pull. Be gentle."

"Sunny, dear little Sunflower," Sophie cajoles, taking a different tack. Sunny's going at her own pace, which involves a lot of staring at leaves and clouds and interesting bugs. "Sunny, the sooner we get to the park, the more time we have to play Grass Face. You _love_ Grass Face."

"Don't wanna play Grass Face," Sunny says, fingers nearly slipping out of Harry's grasp when she stops to examine an unruly tangle of weeds coming up through a sidewalk crack.

"But you love Grass Face!" Sophie says despairingly. It's not true, really. Sophie's the one who loves Grass Face - an aptly-named game which involves pulling up handfuls of grass and throwing them at each other's faces. Sunny's her willing victim most of the time, but she's developed a bit of a backbone lately, and Sophie's not taking it well.

"Soph," Harry says sternly, because Sophie's walking backwards in front of them with her arms outstretched to her little sister, looking betrayed. "Turn around, love, you'll trip and fall and we'll have to go straight back home."

Sophie whines, and turns around. She falls back a bit so she can take Sunny's free hand, swinging Sunny's plump arm back and forth.

"What if _I'm_ the Grass Face," she bargains. "To start. And you get to throw."

"Okay," Sunny sighs, and Sophie yelps happily.

Harry snorts, and looks up as they round the corner. Ah, _there's_ Nick, sprawled out on the hill on an old bedsheet, sunglasses on, laughing. Ian's next to him, with Alex sitting in the grass scribbling furiously in crayon over one of Ian's dot-to-dot books.

Nick looks up, his grin glinting white. "Hi, loves!"

"Dad!" Sophie screams, dropping Sunny's hand like a hot potato and taking off. Sunny whimpers and wrestles her hand out of Harry's grasp, following Sophie at a slightly-slower pace on her chubby toddler legs.

Harry waves, and Nick waves back just as Sophie cannonballs into him.

When Harry finally makes it, Nick reaches out for the wine, arms outstretched above Sunny's head as she sits in his lap. Sophie's got an arm wrapped possessively around his neck.

"Yesss, thank you, _finally_."

Harry snorts. "Hi to you too, Grim. Hey, Ian."

"Hi mate," Ian says, waving.

"Hi, buddy," Harry says, reaching over to pat Alex's grass-stained knee.

"Hi," Alex says without looking up. Ian reaches over to push Alex's glasses up his nose, ruffles his hair.

"Aimee's out of town," Nick explains. "Up in - where's she again?"

"Dublin," Ian says, absently handing Alex a new crayon when the one he's using snaps in half. "With that new band they signed last week."

"Lads day," Nick says, grinning. "All lads all the time. Weyyyy. You're a lad, aren't you, Sun?"

Sunny shakes her head.

"I want lunch, daddy," Sophie sighs. Sunny's already got her hands on an open package of Hobnobs.

"We've got sandwiches, my love," Harry says, unfolding the grocery bag. "Tomato and cheese, ham and cheese, and - that's all, I think."

"Ham and cheese for the kid, please," Ian says, holding out a hand. Harry tosses it to him.

"I want egg salad," Sophie whines.

"No you don't, love, egg salad goes funny in the heat," Nick says, leaning over to fumble for a sandwich. "It'll make your tummy hurt."

"I. don't. _care_ ," Sophie says through gritted teeth, and Harry rolls his eyes over her head at Nick. Nick smirks back, reaches out to ruffle Sophie's mop of hair.

"Well, we haven't got it."

"Can we go get it? I bet the store has it."

"God, what a problem-solver you are," Nick laughs.

"Here, Soph," Harry says, handing her tomato and mozzarella. Sophie takes it with a heavy sigh.

"Hi, Alex," she says, nodding at Alex, and Alex averts his eyes. He's slightly terrified of Sophie, only cos the last time they were together Sophie accidentally-on-purpose shoved him face-first into a puddle. Nick was tipsy and couldn't stop laughing and Harry had to be the one to scold her.

"How's school, Sophs?" Ian asks, as Alex carefully eats his sandwich, holding onto it with both hands like he's scared someone will grab it from him.

Sophie thinks for a minute, fiddling with the wrapper of her sandwich. "It's… silly."

Ian snorts. "Silly?"

"Silly," Sophie repeats firmly.

"Silly," Sunny giggles through a mouthful of biscuit.

" _You're_ silly," Sophie says to her, pinching her cheeks with both hands. Sunny spits out a few HobNob crumbs. "Silly Sunflower."

Sunny giggles some more, and kicks Sophie in the stomach. Sophie falls back onto the blanket, groaning dramatically.

"No kicking," Harry says absently, watching Nick uncork the wine bottle.

"She kicked me," Sophie says, gravely, pressing both hands over her belly like she's been shot. "She kicked me!"

Sunny just chortles, unrepentant.

"Sit up to eat your sandwich, drama queen," Nick says fondly, and Sophie pushes herself upright easily, ponytail lopsided.

"Can I have some of that?" She's eyeing the wine bottle, as Harry holds out a plastic cup for Nick to fill.

"Nope," Nick says. "Grown-ups only."

"I'm a grown-up. I'm _twenty_ years old."

"You, my love, are nowhere near twenty," Nick says, filling up another cup. "But good effort."

Sophie sighs, bites into her sandwich.

Harry takes a swig of wine, follows it with a bite of ham and cheese, nearly groans at the feeling of sun on his face. He exhales slow, looks over and catches Nick watching him. He sticks out his tongue.

Nick smiles, slow and warm beneath his dark sunglasses. Sips his wine. "Hi, Harry Styles."

"Hi, Nick Grimshaw."

_Love you_ , Nick mouths, and Harry mouths it right back, feeling a flutter in his heart like he's a teenager again, catching eyes with Nick in a crowded room, watching Nick's mouth soften into a smile just for Harry.

Sophie thunks her head onto Harry's shoulder, chewing her sandwich, and Harry puts a hand on her knobby knee, skin pale from a London winter. Squeezes gently and lets go.

Last night before bed they gathered in Sophie's room to do their thank-yous, the four of them, even Nick.

Sunny was half-asleep on Nick's lap, and Harry sat cross-legged at the foot of Sophie's bed, squeezing her feet under the duvet until she giggled.

Sunny gave thanks for several different brands of biscuits, Nick for weekends and their upcoming holiday to Greece. Sophie said, after a long yawn, "I'm thankful for Sunflower cos she's my best mate."

When Harry looked up, Nick was watching him, his eyes dark, and Harry had to swallow hard, his throat going hot and tight.

"I'm grateful for your dad," he said, thickly, and Nick looked away, cheeks going red. "Cos he gave me both of you, and you're my favorite things in the whole world."

He sniffled, and Nick threw a balled-up tissue at him. "Stop crying, Styles, c'mon."

"Don't cry, dad," Sophie said, laughing up at him from bed. Her hair was spread out on the pillow and she was smiling, easy and unafraid. Harry thought about holding her tight in his lap in an uncomfortable hospital chair, feeling her shake desperately, back when Nick was so sick and Sunny was barely born. The way she wept, like she knew what could happen. Like she knew how close her dad was to leaving her.

She doesn't look that way anymore.

Harry struggled to swallow.

"Grateful for you, too," he said, leaning over to put his face in her neck, blowing a raspberry that made her squeal. "My girl. My brave girl."

"Gerroff, daddy," Sophie laughed, pushing his head.

Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes, and Nick had laughed quietly at him, rocking Sunny in his arms. Kissed him later, when the girls were asleep and they were in bed, close to sleep, breathing minty-sharp toothpaste against each other's mouths, Nick laughing softly-

"Dad!" Sophie says, and Harry snaps out of the memory, takes an automatic sip of his wine.

"Sorry, yeah?"

"Will you play Grass Face with me?" Sophie's pouting, tugging his arm. "Sunny won't play cos she's _stupid_."

"Don't call your sister stupid." Harry drains his wine, and pushes himself up by the hands. "Fine, let's play."

"You're the grass face first!" Sophie shrieks, sprinting away from him.

"Unlucky," Nick laughs, and Harry crawls over to press a kiss to his warm mouth, right there. Nick tastes like wine and Sunny is pliant and sleepy in his lap and he huffs a little breath against Harry's lips, soft and surprised.

Harry pulls back, licking his mouth.

"No," he says hoarsely. "Lucky. I'm lucky."

Nick rolls his eyes, looking fond. "Stop being weird."

"Stop being weird and come _play_ ," Sophie begs, bouncing on her heels.

Harry just grins, and stumbles to his feet.

 


End file.
